Nowhere Man
by Tragediane
Summary: The sequel to Doppelgänger and reading that story is not necessary to understand this one. Most gaps are filled in. A group of thugs kidnap G Callen and want the device back which was found in the Doppelgänger's SUV. Rated M for darkfic and rape G/OCs. NO SLASH.
1. Nowhere Man

**This is the sequel to Doppelgänger. Most of the story is written so that it is not necessary to have read the first novel.**

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**Reviews appreciated and welcomed.**

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M **

**Story Premise: **A group of thugs kidnap G Callen and want the device back which was found in the Doppelgänger's SUV.

**Category: **An angst/hurt/comfort novel.

**WARNINGS: Non-consensual Sex/Rape: G/OC**

**Darkfic: **Story includes angst, violence, torture, betrayal, and sexual, mental, emotional, and physical trauma.

**Whump: **A majorG Callen whump ahead.

**DISCLAIMER: **NCIS: Los Angeles and its characters are owned by CBS and the producers of it. I do not own anything, but if I did I would torture G Callen more and make him cry and suffer and have plenty of angst. I am grateful to CBS and the producers of NCIS: LA for their contribution to the world of entertainment.

_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. This is a work intended for entertainment __**outside the official storyline**__ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA._ I gain no profit from the creation and publication of this story. I love to play in the sandbox with the characters and their lives. I especially love to torture G Callen. It is fun!

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**Nowhere Man**

**Chapter 1**

Earlier than usual, G parked his Mercedes sports coupe outside a donut shop. It was the second shop he visited this week, making sure he varied his routine more than usual with different times and places. An odd telephone call he received almost a week ago bothered him more than he let his partner know. It made him more cautious than his normal cautiousness. He turned off the engine and stepped out of his car. G rounded the street corner and was about to enter the store when he saw Deeks. He stared at his fellow team member for well over a minute before walking toward him. "What are you doing here?" He asked, lowering his voice. Something was off. His gut told him that. This felt like the strange telephone call. He backed up and started to turn away.

Two brawny hoodlums grabbed G and shoved him face first against a black Suburban. "If you know what's good for you," a deep voice with a familiar accent said, "you won't fight us."

G knew what was good for him and it was not allowing these two burly men do anything more to him. He twisted his body hard to the left and slugged the guy in the gut. The man grabbed his gut and yelped, falling on his butt. With another twist to his body to the right, he kicked the second guy squarely in the groin. The second guy cried out, grabbing his groin and doubling over and falling to his knees. G took out his cell phone and pressed his agent in crisis alert button which autodialed NCIS Headquarters. Next, he snapped pictures of the Suburban, its license plate, the men who attacked him, and Deeks, who was not Deeks. Damn. _As Deeks would say right about now, really._ He backed away from them, sending the photos of the blond-haired men as he moved. G flipped on his heels.

Before he managed to take one step further toward his Mercedes, he was tackled to the sidewalk by both brawny men. His cell phone sailed through the air landing in the gutter beside his Mercedes. The breath knocked out of him, G struggled to raise himself off the cement sidewalk. He pushed upward hard, attempting to unseat both men from his back.

"Stop fighting us or I'll knock you out and drag you back to our car," the same man said again.

This time G decided it was best to play by their rules until he had more room to maneuver.

The two hoodlums lifted their captive off the sidewalk and brought him back to the Suburban. "Get in!" The men pushed him forward into the open door. G shoved backwards, attempting to go for a second round of slugging these two men. The man who had spoken punched G in the left kidney.

He fell to sidewalk, grabbing his left side and grimacing.

"Get up!"

G struggled to stand, clutching his left side.

They lifted him to his feet again.

He swayed from the pain now gripping him and threatening to overwhelm his senses.

"I suggest you stop fighting us," the familiar accented voice said, "now get in." He pushed him toward the open door again.

G decided to make one last effort to escape their plans to kidnap him. He started to climb into the Suburban and bowed down, backing up as fast as he could manage after getting punched in the kidney. Instead of escaping their grasp, he escalated their vigilance.

The non-talkative hulking man punched his captive in the liver.

G collapsed to the sidewalk, panting and writhing.

"Enough?"

G nodded unable to raise himself off the concrete.

The two burly men lifted G off the pavement and pushed him into the Suburban. One climbed in after him and the other climbed into the opposite side of the SUV. They grabbed their prisoner's wrists and used two sets of handcuffs, attaching each wrist to the headrests on the front bucket seats. They pushed him to his knees on the floorboard. The talkative man grabbed a roll of duct tape from the back seat and taped the prisoner's mouth. The other man took a syringe and filled it with a drug.

When he saw the long needle on the end of the syringe, G struggled, pulling hard against the handcuffs.

"Time to sleep," the man with the syringe said his first accented words. The first man held their prisoner still while the second man injected his right biceps area with a sedative.

Ten minutes later, G slumped forward, the medicine taking away all the fight left in him.

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**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

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Sam dialed his partner's number for the fifth time that morning. They had planned to meet for an early morning run after G bought donuts. No answer. Odd. Out of character for him. He started to place his cell phone in dashboard holder when it rang in a peculiar manner. Sam glanced at the alert coming up on his phone. His partner was in a crisis. No one wonder he failed to answer his cell phone. He gunned his engine and sped toward NCIS Headquarters.

Fifteen minutes later, half the time it normally took him to drive to work, Sam arrived at headquarters. He rushed inside to find Kensi and Deeks climbing the stairs to the OPS Center. Sam caught up with and passed them, taking the stairs two at a time. He hurried into their enclosed, high tech conference room.

"Hetty, what happened to G?"

"We're all in the dark, Mr. Hanna," she said, nervously patting down her burgundy suit jacket. "Mr. Beale, the video footage."

Kensi and Deeks entered the room and stared at the images coming up on the high definition video screen.

Deeks's mouth hung open. He stepped closer to the screen. "That's not me, I swear."

"It can't be Mr. Deeks unless you were up at five this morning buying donuts with Mr. Callen."

He pressed closer to the image of his double. "This can't be happening again, can it?"

"The rest of the video, Mr. Beale."

All of the agents' jaws dropped. They watched their team leader attempting to fight off two brawny men with muscles bigger than Sam's.

"Eric, stop, back two frames, maybe three," Sam said. "Stop, see that, G's phone hit the gutter under his Mercedes. Anyway to access it from here?"

"He sent photos but some were damaged in transmission by a jamming device," Eric said, putting up all the photos. "His phone could be damaged. I was unable to access it. A partial plate is all that took. I've done an extensive search and can't find any intel on it."

Sam eyed his tech. "Not extensive enough."

Eric swallowed hard and turned back to his computer. "I'm on it."

"Where's Nell?" He asked.

"I have her on an assignment searching for the identity of one man's face," Hetty said. "The other photo was blocked."

"And his double?" He glanced over his shoulder at Deeks.

"You mean his doppelgänger?" she asked.

"I hate that word," Deeks said, "bad things happen when people use that word. Besides—"

"It's true Mr. Deeks, like it or not, that man is your double."

"Glad you didn't use that word again."

Kensi slugged him in the arm.

"I'm just saying."

"Are you sure you didn't meet Callen for donut shopping?" Kensi sniggered.

"Come on, seriously, at five in the morning?" he asked. "This is like a scene from some B movie—"

She slugged him again and shot him a look.

Deeks rubbed his upper arm.

"Let's go check out the scene," Sam said.

"Be careful, Mr. Hanna."

"Yes, Hetty."

"And… find him, do whatever you can to find him." She turned back to the screen, clasping her hands at the small of her back.

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**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

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Sam, Kensi, and Deeks piled out of the SUV and started scouring the scene at the Hollywood and Vine location for clues.

Sam crouched low at the curb and scanned the gutter next to G's car. He reached into the muddy water and pulled out his partner's cell phone. A job for Eric. No wonder G's cell phone failed to fully transmit the images. He examined the device closer and noticed it had been burned. Odd. Sam hoped his partner's identity was not burned too. He pocketed the phone and attempted to open the Mercedes' side door. A jolt of electricity from the door handle sent Sam flying through the air and landing on his butt on the sidewalk. He yelped. "What the hell?" Sam was thankful he had not been standing in the muddy water at the curb.

Deeks rushed over to his side to help Sam off the sidewalk.

Sam pushed Deeks's hands away. He stared at the burn marks on his left hand. First degree burns. G never used anything to prevent someone from stealing the Mercedes. Sam stood and studied the door and car. He removed his jacket, wrapped it around his right hand, and attempted to open the door again. Same jolt of electricity. This time blocked by the jacket. When he felt the electrical impulse, Sam instinctively jumped backwards. He took out his own cell phone and checked it over before autodialing Eric.

"Any security devices activated on G's car?"

"Nope," Eric said, "double checked."

"Get shocked when I touch the door handle."

"Nothing like that ever installed on his car," Hetty said, joining the now conferenced call.

"Check his credit card purchases and see if he had this installed on his car," Sam said. "It may be what shorted out G's cell phone along with it sitting in muddy water."

"I'm on it."

Now Sam wondered about his partner's mention of that odd telephone call earlier in the week. It spooked G more than he had revealed. Not good. Sam was about to disconnect his cell phone.

"Got something," Eric said, "it appears he purchased an elaborate security system for the Mercedes on Tuesday night."

"Can you deactivate it from your end?"

"Been working on a solution since I discovered the credit card purchase."

"Reading my mind again, thanks, call me when you have an answer." Sam disconnected.

"That's a little paranoid," Deeks said.

"Highly paranoid," Sam said, under his breath. _G figured out something and failed to inform me._ "Find anything else?"

"Kensi's in the donut shop seeing about the security camera feed," he said. "I found and took pictures of that SUV's tire tracks in the mud. Sent them to Eric."

Sam's cell phone rang at the same time Kensi walked out of the donut shop. "What do you have for me, Eric?"

"I've broken the security code and you're not gonna believe this."

"What?" He sighed.

"The code is a series of words."

"Words? What?"

"Yes, in the photos he sent to me, some of which failed to come through, he included the password," Eric said. "I didn't see it before."

"Okay, give it to me."

"Hetty wants only you to hear this."

"What?"

"Mr. Hanna, your eyes and ears only for now."

"Okay, whatever, why the secrecy?"

She disconnected the conference call and lowered her voice. "He knows who these men are." Hetty sighed. "I'm well aware that he told you about a call he received."

"He wasn't sure if it was anything."

"Mr. Callen is now," she said, "and was when he installed the security system on his car. The security code decrypted spells, '_tell H Romanian_.'"

Sam shuddered hearing those words. This was their doppelgänger case all over again. These men had kidnapped his partner. "I understand the reason you want to keep this—"

"Your eyes and ears only, no ifs, ands, or buts, understood?"

He sighed exasperated by her orders. "Yes, Hetty." Sam disconnected the cell phone and placed his jacket around his right hand. He was gun shy after two shocks. Nothing this time when he touched the door handle. Sam sat in the passenger's seat and scanned the car interior, hoping to see something obvious. G left a clue for him to find.

Deeks leaned into the car. "We're wanted back at headquarters."

"The shop owner gave me a disc copy of the security cams," Kensi said.

"How do I know G didn't rig this car to blow when it starts?"

"Hetty said to call her when you are ready to leave," Deeks said.

Sam watched them leave and reclined the seat and closed his eyes. His eyes flew open and he stared at the ceiling before him. Could it be that simple? He felt the ceiling above him, wiring for the new security system. The trunk. Sam searched the front seat of the car, under the seat and floor mat for an extra key. It was common for G to leave an extra key under the floor mat taped to the underside. Nothing this time. He grabbed his jacket again and covered his fingers while he opened the glove compartment. No shock. He released the jacket and searched the inside of the compartment. No key.

He sighed, exasperated by his fruitless search.

Sam felt an odd raised area to the back of the box. He ran his fingers across it several times, searching for a free edge. Instead he found a wire. Sam followed the wire to bottom of the box. He removed the contents one by one from the glove compartment, setting each one on the driver's seat. G never stored much in his vehicles and this time he assumed would be no exception. A map book with an extensive index. A spoon. That was a first. A sterling silver spoon. It was partially tarnished. He turned it over and found an inscription on the back of the spoon handle. Sam stared at the words, his jaw dropping open.

'_Pentru fiul meu, iubirea PaPa.'_

What the? Looked and sounded Romanian. Sam took out his cell phone and accessed a translation site. '_For my son, Love, PaPa_.' G had not mentioned any contact with his father. Sam pocketed the spoon. He reached into the glove compartment again. The map book hid a treasure of sterling silver items all with that same inscription. Chills traveled up Sam's spine. His partner had kept this all hidden from him. He removed everything, at least ten more items, now without inspecting them. The compartment now empty, Sam traced the raised area at the back with his fingers until it stopped on the compartment's bottom. He discovered a raised edge with a slightly lifted corner. He tugged on the corner and pulled it back. His jaw dropped open again. The area covered the whole bottom of the compartment. It was filled with letters postmarked in Romania.

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**Thanks for reading.**


	2. Nowhere Land

**Thanks for the reviews so far.**

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******Reviews appreciated and welcomed**

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

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**Nowhere Land**

**Chapter 2**

In the early morning hours on Saturday, the Zuma Beach lifeguard patrolled the expansive beach, making sure everything was set for a busy day of beachcombers, surfers, and sunbathers. Brad Summers drove toward the North end of the Zuma Beach and spotted what appeared to be beached marine life near the caves. He stopped his truck, grabbed his cell phone, and his flashlight. Within ten feet of the animal, Brad realized it was a man's body. A badly beaten, bruised, and bleeding naked man. Brad had seen his share of horrors while stationed in Iraq during the war, but nothing which made him nauseous. This scene caused his stomach to turn. He rushed back to his truck, swallowing down bitter bile which threatened to erupt from the back of his throat. Brad grabbed a blanket from the truck bed, a bottle of water from a cooler, and gathered his wits before he hurried back over to the naked man. After covering him, he discovered the John Doe was out cold. He autodialed the one number he kept on his work cell phone besides the lifeguard station's main number.

"Yeah, this is Marty," he said, stretching and yawning. "Slow down, man, I can barely understand you."

"I said, this is Brad, I have a body by the caves and…" He stopped to catch his breath and swallow down the bitter taste at the back of his throat. Brad turned away from the body before his eyes. "I thought of you."

"I'm not sure if I should be honored or disturbed." Marty Deeks snickered.

"Come on, just come down and take a look."

"You should call 911."

"You don't work for LAPD any more?"

"Not exactly…" He sighed. "I'll get my running gear on and take a run." _So much for my day off._ "I'll be there in thirty."

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**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

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Marty arrived at Zuma Beach and waited for his friend to pick him up in his truck.

"Glad you came," Brad said.

"I'm not so sure I'm glad," Marty said, half joking.

"I knew I could count on you."

"And you are gonna tell me why you didn't call the police."

"I did."

"No, Brad, 911."

"I'll show you why." He stopped the truck and grabbed his flashlight. The dawn light started to come over the hills to the East.

Marty followed close behind his long time friend. Within five feet of the blanket covered form, his jaw dropped. He pulled out his cell phone and autodialed all his fellow agents and Hetty a text alert.

"You know him?"

"Yes," he said. "Any chance we can get some help and load him into the back of your truck?"

"I'll arrange it."

Marty rubbed his two day old beard and waited for a call back from someone on his team. He hoped it was not Sam because he would hear about the early morning hour first and need to get past his anger next. If Hetty answered it that too might prove to be a volatile conversation. Both were argumentative ever since Callen went missing. If Kensi called it would not be half bad. Maybe not. She was pissed too. Marty guessed that NCIS agents failed to recover fully after losing agents. His team still mourned the death of Dom, the man he had replaced, he saw it in their eyes when they talked about Callen.

His phone vibrated and he stared at the name on the caller ID. Marty braced himself for a barrage of expletives and answered the phone.

"This better be important to text an alert to me at this ungodly hour of the morning on a Saturday of all—"

"I found Callen," he said, interrupting the torrent of words spewing forth from the man's mouth. "Technically, a friend of mine found Callen."

"Where? When? How?"

"Slow down, Zuma Beach." He wanted his own mind to slow down more than he wished Sam's mind would slow down.

"I'm on my way, don't move him, need photos, you know crime scene photos, and just don't move him yet."

"I think he was dumped here."

"Notify everyone."

"A text message was broadcast to everyone on the team and Hetty as we agreed upon a week ago."

Sam huffed and puffed, talking while he dressed quicker than usual. "He may have been dumped but I need photos."

"Got you." Marty disconnected before hearing anything more. More anger. More arguments. An agent had gone missing… again. He was alive, at least he appeared to be breathing. Marty stared at Callen's blanketed form, counting the man's painfully slow, uneven breaths. A sign of tremendous pain and an unconscious state. Not good. He turned to his friend. "So why did you call me instead of 911?"

"I played my hunch," Brad said. "I remember what you told me earlier in the week."

"Aw, thanks." He sighed. "Do you have a camera that's better than this cell phone?"

"Sure thing, in the truck."

"I'll need to borrow it for a while and I'll get it back to you."

"Not a problem." Brad turned to leave.

"And I need to have you pick up my partner and bring him here."

"Okay."

"And I… thanks." Marty refocused his attention on Callen, checking his breaths again. He shot numerous photos of Callen's naked, bruised, battered, and bloodied body. Marty loathed removing the blanket, with it gone he invaded his lead agent's privacy. Yet, Sam asked for photos. He shot the photos as if he were investigating a crime scene, not the scene of his friend and team leader. But again, this was no crime scene, Callen's unresponsive body was dumped here.

Marty needed to step back and remove himself from this reality. This was not happening to his friend and team leader. He took a breather by the caves, resting against a rocky outcropping before bending over and doing something he had not done in years: Marty hurled onto the sand at his feet not once but three times. Everything he ate this morning, which was not much, was now congealed in the sand at his feet. He kicked some sand over it and faced the rock outcropping, attempting to gather what strength and courage he had left, before returning to the crime scene.

Callen's unsteady breaths reminded Marty of his own shooting last year. His team leader was not shot though. No blood seeped from his body, coagulating the sand into gooey clumps. Marty was thankful for that one thing. He was not thankful for the sight of Callen's bruised, battered, and blood encrusted body.

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**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

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Sam climbed out of the truck before it stopped moving. He raced over to Deeks, no longer needing a flashlight as the sun had risen over the hills.

"Brace yourself, man, this isn't easy," Marty said, positioning himself between Sam and Callen.

"Move out of my way, damn it!"

He stepped aside and watched the muscular African American man's face. The same reaction Marty had over an hour ago crossed over his face.

Sam stared at his partner, lower jaw slacked open wider than usual. "G," he whispered, barely audible. "Photos?"

"Finished," Marty whispered back.

Sam crouched next to his partner on the sand and lifted the blanket. His gut lurched and he swallowed down the bitter taste which rose to the back of his throat. "G," he whispered more to himself than Deeks or his partner. He straightened and strode back to the truck. "Close the beach."

"It's done," Brad said. "Any time there is an attempted murder or murder, the beach is shut down until the police clear the site."

Sam shuddered hearing those words, attempted murder or murder. It was obvious that Brad knew what had occurred and took the appropriate measures. "This is now a NCIS investigation and carries top security clearance."

"Understood," he said. "Do you still need help getting him in the back of my truck?"

"All three of us should be able to handle this," Sam said. "Got a rescue stretcher?"

"Yes, in the back.

Brad, Sam, and Marty loaded G's unconscious body onto the stretcher and into the back of the lifeguard's truck. Sam stayed with G in the back of the truck. It worried him that his partner had not even moaned when they picked him up off the sand.

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**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

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Sam lifted G into his arms and brought him into the house, carrying his partner into G's master bathroom. He settled him onto a window seat in the bathroom, stripped off his own clothes, and brought G into the shower. His partner's bloodied, bruised, beaten body necessitated a shower to determine the extent of his injuries. He hoped it was only battered without internal injuries. Sam scrubbed away the caked, dried blood, finding minor surfaces cuts and bruises all over his partner's body. After washing his hair, he rinsed him off and lifted his partner into his arms. Sam grabbed several towels from the linen closet in the bathroom and spread them on the hardwood floor. G desperately needed a bed in his master bedroom. If the guy failed to buy himself one soon, Sam was gonna take measures into his own hands. He laid G's unconscious body on the towels and gently dried him off with two more towels, exploring every inch of his partner's bruised and cut body.

While his partner was unconscious, it was time to explore the unthinkable. Sam wanted to believe G's captors had not stooped to anything more than beating and battering his body. He needed to investigate the worst case scenario. After rummaging in the linen closet for close to thirty minutes, Sam discovered the items he needed to examine his partner's most private body parts. He knew G would never submit to this if he were conscious. Ten minutes later, Sam discovered his partner had been raped. Sam took as many crude samples as he could before packing and labeling them and tossing them into the refrigerator and freezer. He sighed again for at least the fourth time in the last hour. Sam brought G back into the shower once more and washed the blood and semen from his partner's most private sanctum. He had invaded a privacy no one dare touch or take or destroy. Someone carried out an assault on his partner's innermost being. Sam shuddered, feeling profound disgust toward G's assailants.

Again he dried off his partner's body and lifted him into his arms before settling his blanket wrapped, naked body onto his lap in the only chair in G's living room. One thing Sam knew, if you wanted people to keep their distance you gave them little choices to remain in your presence; thus G's barren living room.

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**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

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He swam to consciousness out of a disturbing dream, terrified, waiting for their next assault. G struggled to open his eyes, as if glue kept them shut. _Drugs. _They drugged him and used needles to administer the drugs. He still hated needles no matter if they contained something to harm or help him.

A warm body caressed his shoulders and back. A deep voice spoke calming, soothing words. A hard, muscular body held him tight. He struggled again. His own raspy and weak voice cried out.

"Easy, G, easy, man, you are safe."

"Don't…"

Sam released his hold and allowed his partner to slide off his lap onto the floor at his feet.

When he saw nakedness, G drew the blanket around him, struggling to maintain a thread of decency. "How did I get here?"

"Long story."

"Shortened version."

"Marty's friend found you on Zuma Beach."

"Like this?" G glanced for a moment at his naked body under the blanket.

"Yes."

"Crap."

"Do you remember anything—"

G shut his partner up with the wave of his hand. He struggled to get a foothold before attempting to stand on his own. Halfway through his effort, G slumped to the floor, the blanket falling away and exposing his nakedness. He redoubled his effort, drawing the blanket around him and stabilizing himself with the end table's top.

"Let me help—"

"No!" G pushed himself upward, this time maintaining stability without collapsing on his weakened legs. He dragged his body toward his bedroom, grabbing doorjambs and steadying himself against walls. Once inside his master bedroom, G stared at the pattern of towels on the hardwood floor. He cringed, a faint memory of a personal invasion forced its way into his conscious thought. G inched toward the closet, keeping his balance with one hand on the wall. Inside the closet, he nestled under a blanket on his bedroll, pushing himself against a far wall and huddling there, knees drawn up to his heaving chest and arms tightened around them.

Sam watched his partner's efforts from the doorway to the bedroom. After G settled himself, he crossed the room and stood outside the closet. "What do you need me to do?"

G glanced up from his protective position in the corner. "You… took… damn it, I can't even talk to you about this." He lowered his eyes to the floor in front of him. "Specimens." G spit out the word.

"Evidence."

"Damn it."

"Maybe a hospital would have been a better—"

"Stop!" G held up both hands. "Enough. No more."

"I know it wasn't a good idea." Sam stared at the closet floor. "After the fact."

"I don't… bend that way."

"I know and the evidence might lead us to your—"

G held up his hands again and turned his gaze toward the wall in his closet. "Just go. Leave."

"I'd like to but Hetty has no idea about where you are and—"

"What?" His jaw dropped.

"Your body was encrusted with dried and seeping blood and sand and you needed to be bathed and—"

"Isn't there any shred of decency you gave me… I guess not… we're partners… I never thought you'd do this to me." He drew the blanket up past his chin and kept his eyes averted to the wall. "Leave."

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**Thanks for reading. More to come soon...**


	3. Nowhere Plans

**Thanks for the reviews.**

**Reviews appreciated and welcomed**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

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**Nowhere Plans**

**Chapter 3**

After he cleaned up the towels and grabbed the specimens for the lab, Sam left G's house. He stopped by LAPD's office and handed off the specimens to a forensic laboratory technician with the specific instructions to call and talk only to Sam Hanna. Sam drove to NCIS Headquarters, parked his car, and stayed in it, staring at the wall before him.

Twenty minutes passed before he climbed out of his vehicle and headed into the building. Before he entered the bullpen, Hetty's eyes caught his. He hesitated outside the bullpen and strode across the expanse connecting his supervisor's office with his desk.

"Mr. Hanna, I didn't expect you here this soon."

"It's complicated." He sighed. "G kicked me out of his house."

"He shouldn't be left alone."

"Yes." _I know. _He mumbled to himself.

"Kicked you out?"

"I crossed a boundary I—damn."

"Please sit."

"Can't." Sam stepped back from her desk.

"That's not a request, Mr. Hanna."

He slumped down in the chair, facing her desk. "I took samples for the lab." Sam hoped she would not make him say the meaning behind his words.

"I see."

"He figured it out and was not happy with my… intrusion."

"And asked you to leave."

Sam nodded. The less said the better about this touchy subject. "Samples are at the LAPD lab."

"You informed them about this being a NCIS matter."

"Yes."

"You are needed up in OPS."

Sam stood and sighed. "What about G?"

"I'll take care of this myself."

He climbed the stairs, taking two step at a time. Outside the OPS Center, he made an about face and headed back down the hallway toward the punching bag. Sam thought about taking his mixed feelings out on the bag. Instead, he sat on a bench down the hallway from it, leaned over and placed his forehead in the palms of his hands.

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**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

G knew the protocol. He took matters into his own hands, needing to know the tests results which he knew his partner had taken to the LAPD's forensic laboratory. After entering LAPD's forensic division and flashing his ID at the security desk's officer, G was lead down a hallway to the forensic laboratory. He settled down into a chair in the hallway and waited for the test results. Within five minutes, a forensic laboratory technician came out into the hallway and greeted him. G used his partner's name and signed for the test results. It was a lie he needed right now. He took the printed out results in hand and thanked the technician.

Afterward G slouched down in the sleek, black Jaguar's driver's seat, only then did he read the results to the tests. He pounded his fists on the steering wheel. _I knew it. Damn him._ G wanted to punch or shoot someone. He drove to the shooting range, needing to release the intense rage he felt toward his partner's violation and the three men who had assaulted him. Once outside the shooting range, G reread the results and stared at the paper. Disgusted with the entire situation, he crumpled the paper into a tight ball and yelled, throwing the balled up test results into the back of his car. He leaned over the steering wheel, placed his hands at the 12 o'clock position, and rested his forehead on them. Tears formed in his cerulean blue eyes. His battle against the onslaught of memories from five days in captivity waned again, bringing him closer to an emotional breakdown. _Keep it together one more day. _Those words had become a mantra to him for the last 144 hours.

G climbed out of the Jaguar and grabbed his gun from the trunk. He planned this outing the moment he woke up. It was mandatory to let off steam from the deep dread spiraling out of control and the growing rage within him. G grabbed several boxes of blanks and placed them in a small satchel and hoisted it over his left shoulder. A dull ache in his shoulder reverberated through his upper body for the second time that day. Maybe something was broken, but it did not matter to him right now. He pressed onward to the shooting range's entrance. After paying for a private booth on the upper deck, G trudged toward the stairs and took them slower than normal; the pain and soreness throughout his body had caught up with him, requiring him pause every five to six steps and lean on the staircase's railing to catch a breath. _Maybe I need to stay in bed one more day. _G reached the upper deck level and came face to face with his operations manager. "Hetty."

"You and I need to talk."

"Not happening."

"Yes, it is, Mr. Callen, or I'll slap your butt in the nearest hospital."

He sighed and shot her a look.

"And don't think I won't do it."

G held up his hands. "Uncle."

"Good, let's go." Hetty lead the way to the private shooting booth her agent had rented.

"Wait a minute," he said, "how did you know—"

"I know the whereabouts of all my agents at all times."

"Except for the—"

"That was unfortunate and I'm deeply sorry, Mr. Callen," Hetty said. "Please sit and let's address some problems which have arisen as a consequence of the kidnapping." She motioned to the two chairs facing each other.

G figured she had arranged the chairs and waited for him to arrive at the shooting range. He eased his dog-tired and aching body into one of the chairs and sighed.

"I have the test results and I know you do too, although through unscrupulous means."

"My body, my results."

"Understood."

At least there was no argument from her and no defending his partner and _his_ unpleasant means to obtain the specimens for those tests, at least so far.

"Mr. Callen, you and your partner need to kiss and make up, so to speak."

_I thought she would bypass this mess._

"You both make a great team—"

"And you're gonna let him off the hook?"

"What hook, he's your partner, he did what he thought was best for you."

"Damn it!" G shot off his chair, too fast for his compromised condition, he swayed and regained his balance. "I didn't think you'd side with him."

"Would you've preferred a hospital staff member to obtain those specimens?"

"Yes, less—" He could not bring himself to say the word, instead, G slid the satchel off his shoulder and loaded his gun. Real bullets expressed more of what he felt, but blanks would have to do. "Excuse me, I need to shoot something."

"Mr. Callen."

G faced her once again.

"I need you both 100 percent for this ops."

"Kiss and make up, is that all?" He turned back to the shooting range. "And what about Sam, no apologies from him?"

"He attempted to apologize to you and you kicked him out of your house."

G sighed and stepped closer to the mat to ready himself and fire his weapon. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, so I kicked him out, big deal—he violated my trust." He fired a few shots. "And that's not all he did."

"And you two will work it out, Mr. Callen, and that is an order not a request." Hetty picked up her purse, drew it over her neck and shoulder. She stood and strode toward the shooting booth's entrance. At the doorway, Hetty faced her lead agent's direction. "I still need to know what happened and who these people are who kidnapped you."

"I'm not ready to talk about—"

"Get ready, Mr. Callen, the archive room 9 sharp tomorrow morning." She straightened her brick red suit jacket and flipped on her heels to leave.

"No, can't do it, won't do it."

"9 sharp." Hetty left.

Sam replaced his supervisor at the private shooting booth's doorway.

"You really know how to piss someone off," G said, keeping his focus on the targets before him. "I hope you brought something to do."

"Yes, my weapon and blanks." He loaded his gun with blanks and stepped along side his partner.

"You should be glad I don't have real bullets in this gun."

"Believe me, I am." Sam cracked his partner a wry smile and aimed his gun. He hesitated before firing off three rounds. "I'm—"

"Don't."

"I was going to be discreet."

"Okay."

"Sorry, G." He squeezed the hammer on his weapon, firing off more rounds. "If you need to talk—" Sam cut himself off.

Tears formed again in his cerulean blue eyes. He placed his empty weapon on a table and brought out another box of blanks. "Everyone wants me to talk and no one is listening." G finished loading his weapon and stared at it. "Hetty's hopeful I'll show up tomorrow morning and start telling her what happened. Slim chance."

"How about ale and a drunken talk session at your place?"

"Loosen my lips, is that it?"

"Yes, it works."

"Yes, it does." He stepped up to the mat, positioned his body, readied his weapon, and fired off all six blanks. "So does this." Each one hit the target dead center in the chest.

"Kill enough people?" Sam loaded his weapon again.

"Close." The left corner of his mouth turned upward.

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

G nursed his fourth ale. The alcohol relaxed him into a stupor and for the first time in six days he felt no pain. He set the bottle on the floor next to him and slouched against the wall.

"You really need to get a comfortable sofa or couch."

"What's the difference?"

"Length and style."

"Where did you learn about furniture?"

"My wife."

G held up his bottle to toast his partner. "To your wife," he said with slurred speech.

Sam grabbed the bottle from his partner's hand. "I think you've had more than enough."

"Come on, I wanted to finish that one."

"After we talk."

"You drive a hard wagon."

Sam glanced at him sideways.

"They came out all wrong." G slid down the wall until he was lying on his right side.

"They?"

"You know what I meant, Sam, come on, 'that' okay."

"Just as long as you know what you meant to say." Sam winked at his partner.

G wiped his eyes with the fore finger and thumb of both hands. "I lost it and maybe I'll never find it again." He flattened himself chest first against the hardwood floor, keeping his eyes averted from Sam's.

"Lost it?"

"Yes."

"Your swagger?"

"Yes."

"You never were arrogant, G."

"Damn it, you know what I mean." He rested his chin on his arms, staring at the blank wall before him. "Some pictures on my blank walls ought to be nice too. I cracked during an interrogation."

"What caused you to crack?"

"Torture." Again, he could not bring himself to say that word.

"Specifics."

"Not yet."

"Hetty expects you to share tomorrow morning."

"Not happening."

"And what was her answer to that?"

"She promised to slap my butt in the nearest hospital."

"Maybe you should go."

"What?" G rolled to his side.

"Get yourself checked out at the hospital."

He closed his eyes. "Not happening."

Sam sighed.

"I know the sound of disgusted when I hear it."

"You probably have something that needs attending—"

"Don't push your luck!" G opened his eyes and sat up, sliding over to the wall. He balanced his tired, achy, and now drunk body using the wall to stand and steady himself before exiting the living room.

"Must've been something I said." Sam chuckled. He stood and brought their ale bottles over to the sink. With an odd noise coming from near the front door, he flipped on his heels, drew his weapon, and edged toward the foyer. Sam turned the corner to find his operations manager standing by the door. "Hetty." He lowered his weapon and holstered it. "I thought you wanted to speak with G in the morning."

"Had been my plan until something arose."

Sam cocked his head.

"Where's Mr. Callen?"

"Right here, Hetty." G lumbered into the living room.

"We've got a serious problem, rather, you have one, Mr. Callen."

"What?"

"Interpol contacted me regarding a case they're following."

G staggered backward several feet and stopped.

"You know about this Interpol case?"

"Possibly."

"I think you know more than you are letting on," Hetty said, sitting down in her agent's only living room chair.

G swallowed hard, followed her, and stood beside the fireplace resting his right forearm on the fireplace mantel.

"Interpol wants you next."

"What?" He straightened and sighed.

"What's going on, G?"

"I suggest you talk to me before they arrive to question and arrest you."

"I," he said, "…I'm not ready to disclose this case to NCIS, our team, or Interpol."

"So you do know about the case."

"Yes."

"Not good, G, you need to talk to us."

"Not happening."

"That must be your new favorite line," Sam said. "It's about the third time I've heard it today."

G shot his partner a look.

"Mr. Callen, please talk to us about their case."

"I know, do it or get arrested by Interpol."

"Yes, and I know you don't want that to happen."

"I may not want that but…." He sighed. "It is inevitable because I can't talk about this."

"You just talked in a circle," Sam said, eyeing his partner.

"And your point?"

"Has this anything to do with the items I found in your glove compartment?"

G sighed. "Since when did you go snooping in there?"

"Long story, I know about it."

"Mr. Hanna, what have you withheld from me?"

"I planned to tell you at some point after I spoke with G about it."

"And?" Hetty glanced at Sam first and then G.

G sighed again. "I can't talk about this—"

"Is that the only line you can say besides it's not happening?" Sam asked.

"Let's take this from a different stance," Hetty said. "Is this connected to any current case?"

"No," he said. "I need to go sleep off this hangover."

"What?" Sam shot his partner a look.

"Mr. Callen, you are coming with me to the boat house."

"Not happening."

"Are we going with that again?" Sam asked. "Come on, G, you need to listen to Hetty."

"I'm listening and I'm drunk and I'm going to sleep this off."

Hetty stood, stepped to within inches of her lead agent, and lowered her voice. "Not happening, Mr. Callen, understood?" G swallowed hard hearing his own words parroted back to him. "Mr. Hanna, please bring him to the boat house."

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	4. Interpol

**Reviews appreciated and welcomed.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Interpol**

**Chapter 4**

For the first time in his entire career as a federal agent, G sat on the opposing side of the interrogation table. He stared at the opposite wall with his arms crossed as he leaned back in the chair.

Hetty settled down in the chair across from her lead agent. "This is off the record."

"I want it on the record," he said.

"I'm trying to afford you the privacy you deserve."

G sat forward, closing the gap between them. "I don't deserve anything, record it."

Hetty waved her hand at the camera in the corner. "They are here and can hear what we're saying."

"Good because I have nothing to say." G leaned back against the chair.

"You are not defending yourself?"

"Nope," he said, "no reason to defend myself. I've done nothing wrong." A partial lie. It protected himself and someone he dearly loved.

Sam rushed into the room and slammed the door against an inner wall. "What in the hell are you doing?"

G gaped at his partner and glanced at Hetty. "I'm sitting here being interrogated by my operations manager," he said with a causal tone.

"Damn it, G, stop being so stubborn," he said. "This is one time you need to acquiesce and tell us what you've gotten yourself into."

"I don't concur."

"What?" Sam gawked at him and eyed Hetty. "What's the deep, dark secret you've hid from me? From us? From the team?"

G glanced at him sideways.

"Don't give me that look!" He reached down and yanked his partner off the chair by the scruff of his shirt and shoved him against the nearest wall. "You are going to throw away your whole career as an NCIS agent and for what?" Sam asked glaring at his partner and getting in his face. "Nothing can be this important—"

"Mr. Hanna, back down and release him."

"No, damn it, I want to know what could be that important that you'd throw this all away."

Hetty came along side her agent. "Sam," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "release him."

Sam shoved his partner harder into the wall and released him with a loud huff stomping out of the interrogation room and slamming the door behind him.

G gawked at the shut door. He composed himself, trying to gain a sense of calmness before settling back down in the chair. G had never seen his partner this riled up over a situation between the two of them. Sam's actions shook him to the core. Maybe this whole sequence of events was not a good idea, and yet it necessitated that he follow through with what he had set in motion weeks ago. His life and his loved one's life depended on it.

"Mr. Callen, are you okay?" Hetty asked as she settled down in her chair again.

G nodded.

"Is there anything—"

"I'm prepared to be arrested by Interpol."

"Mr. Callen!"

"I need to get on with this right now."

Hetty stood and left the interrogation room.

Two officers entered the room, one with handcuffs in his hand. G had hoped that handcuffs would not be necessary if he cooperated. These two officers were not taking any chances. At least they were not zip ties.

"Stand."

He knew the routine, had repeated it to countless criminals. G stood and placed his arms behind his back, surrendering to them. Upon hearing the handcuffs being clasped into place around his wrists, he cringed and his entire body jerked. He flashed back to the kidnapping at Hollywood and Vine around 5 AM almost two weeks ago. The drugs coursed through his body until he succumbed to their powerful effects. G's eyes fluttered and he came back to the present moment unsure if his two new captors had spoken to him.

"Come with us." The taller of the two agents guided his prisoner out into the hallway. "Thanks for being cooperative instead of fighting us." He took his prisoner out into the parking lot and helped him into the backseat of the black, unmarked SUV.

Again G began to have flashbacks of the kidnapping. Too similar. The vehicle. The handcuffs. The strange odors in the car. He willed himself to stay calm and not react to the similarities. A strong feeling of dread washed over him—the doors slamming shut, the odors, the handcuffs, the vehicle, the drugs—all contributed to that feeling. The kidnapping repeated in his mind again and again and wooziness in his head from the ale amplified the sensations and feelings in his body and mind. G faced the empty seat next to him, hurled onto the floorboard, and passed out on the seat.

"Damn it, stop the car, the guy's lost his lunch," the taller agent said from the passenger seat. After the lead agent stopped the car along the side of an isolated street, the taller agent opened the passenger door and helped their prisoner out of the backseat, settling him on the curb while the two officers cleaned up the backseat. When the officer turned back to lift his prisoner off the curb he found the spot empty. "What in the hell?"

From behind the officer, G grabbed a weapon from the man's holster and pointed it at his spine. "Give me your hands and tell your partner to sit in the backseat."

"You don't want to—"

"Don't tell me what I don't want to do," he said, "follow my instructions to the letter."

"Gary, sit in the backseat, do what he says."

"Thank you." G cuffed the man's arms behind his back.

"Can I ask how?"

"You may ask all you want and I won't guarantee I'll answer," he said guiding the man into the backseat. "One move from you Gary, and I won't hesitate to shoot you. I'm a great shot. Your choice." G hurried around to the opposite side of the car and grabbed the handcuffs off the officer. "Step out of the vehicle, Gary, nice and slow, hands behind your back." G cuffed the second officer and guided him back into the SUV. "Where do you prefer I drop you off? Your homes or your job?"

"What?" Gary asked.

"I'm a federal agent and can access anything I wish to know."

"You pick it," Gary said.

"Smart choice." G climbed into the front seat and took the still running vehicle out of park. "For the record, I keep an implement on me at all times. It has helped me out of sticky circumstances such as this." G drove to a spot on a deserted road halfway between the two agent's jobs and homes. He guided the two men out of the vehicle and removed their cell phones, destroying the smart cards in them and tossing the batteries over a fence into a field. "Where's your weapon, Gary?"

"Glove compartment."

"Stupid idea," G said. "When you transport a criminal be prepared for the worst-case scenario. For your sakes, I hope someone comes along this deserted road and rescues you." He climbed into the SUV and pulled back onto the road.

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

"You have him, Mr. Beale?" Hetty asked, standing in the OPS Center behind her technician.

"Yes, pulling up the most recent videos from traffic cams."

"The device is tracking well?"

"Yes, better than expected." Eric brought up the most recent videos of their wayward agent.

Sam leaned against the light table, folded his arms and sighed. "That's not exactly the way I'd send off my partner."

"And if you hadn't, Mr. Hanna, we wouldn't have these videos and the tracking."

"I know," he said, "but now he thinks I'm pissed at him."

"Too bad," she said, "you get paid to follow my orders not to placate your partner."

The whole team watched the videos of their lead agent take down and handcuff the two Interpol agents.

"He's good," Deeks said, "less than thirty minutes and he's confiscated their vehicle and left their team on the side of a deserted highway."

Sam rubbed his chin with a forefinger and a thumb. "Come on, G, show us where you are going." He muttered to himself but loud enough for the team to hear.

One by one each team member's jaw dropped when their lead agent parked outside a government facility. They watched him survey the facility and then leave.

"What the?" Sam straightened and watched the video from the traffic cam.

"Don't lose him, Mr. Beale, I need constant surveillance on Mr. Callen."

Eric knew what that meant, no going home tonight.

"I need the team to ascertain the purpose of this government facility," she said. "I need access to every camera in the area including the secure ones outside that government building. Do not pursue or take Mr. Callen into custody."

"Wait a minute," Sam said, "you want us to watch him perform whatever task is associated with that particular building and then sit back and witness a crime?"

"Yes, if need be, Mr. Hanna."

He sighed. It was one thing to tag multiple tracking devices on his unsuspecting partner and another to watch him commit a crime without intervening in the circumstances. Sam left the OPS Center with his guts doing flip flops. Never had he laid into his partner the way Hetty had asked him to. The look on G's face said it all. Shock and confusion. Of course Hetty knew that would be the outcome but now his partner was running and pursuing some other calling and Sam was at a loss as to how to proceed. _Do not pursue. Do not take into custody. G is my partner and I know something is not right. I might have to disobey Hetty in order to save my partnership and G's life and sanity._

"Mr. Hanna!" Hetty followed her agent to the stairs.

Sam flipped on his heels, faced her, and stepped back to the doorway.

"You need to avoid getting emotionally invested in this case."

"No, can't do it, he's my partner."

"If he suspects for one moment we are pursuing him, he'll know we tracked him."

"Damn." He sighed. "And we can't allow him to know that." Sam crossed his arms and leaned his right shoulder into the door jamb. "I'm concerned about him."

"As well as I, Sam, but we must keep our distance and watch this scene play out to its fullest."

He sighed louder.

"You didn't betray him."

"You don't know that. We don't know that. No one knows that," Sam said. "This is a shot in the dark."

Hetty sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "And the only shot we have left in the chamber of our gun."

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

Night fell on Los Angeles as G parked to the side of the government facility. He double checked his equipment and his attire and his face. Earlier he had ditched Interpol's SUV and rented a nondescript vehicle for his heist. As a precaution, he used an alias to rent the vehicle. Better hidden and discreet than using his real name. Although, he had gone undercover too many times to remember in the last two months that his name no longer held any meaning for him. It was just a placeholder. His entire persona tonight reflected the meaninglessness of his name. The black smudge paint on his face and neck hid his light skin and two day-old facial growth. The black jumpsuit covered his usual attire of jeans and a dark blue, long sleeve t-shirt. The black night cap secured over his head hid his light colored hair. And his black, bulletproof knapsack and vest concealed more secrets than he cared to know or tell his own team.

G slid out of the driver's seat and softly closed the door. He hoisted the knapsack over his shoulders and removed the gun from under the arm holster. G had not used one of these holsters in a long time. He practiced drawing his weapon out of the holster before a mirror at his hotel.

As he neared the facility's outer fence, he thought back to the confrontation with his partner in the interrogation room. It shook him to the core. His partner. His partner had attacked him. His partner had got in his face. G pushed the unpleasant memory out of his mind and focused on the fence searching for the one spot to test the electrical current. When he reached the area farthest away from the building's side entrance, he lowered his knapsack to the grass at his feet and removed a specialized device from it. He eyed the control panel on the device, pressed several buttons and ordered the electrified fence to shut down. Afterward he used a pair of bolt cutters to hack his way through the chain-link fence.

Once inside the facility's yard, G crossed the wide open space, keeping to the shadows. He grabbed another device out of the knapsack and keyed into it information about the facility's secure system. G approached the side door undetected and inched toward the entrance. After swiping the device over the keypad beside the entrance, a green light signaled the door was released. He pulled the door open with a black, nitrile gloved hand and slid through the doorway into the secure facility. G eased the door closed, keeping the noise to a minimum.

After searching through the schematics on the same device which allowed him to gain access to the secure facility, he found the room he wanted and edged toward its direction. G slipped around the last corner and saw the room directly across from him. He scanned the door again and disabled the security lock. Once inside the darkened room, G pulled a flashlight from his knapsack and surveyed the area for the item he needed.

A noise in the corridor sent him to the floor, turning off his flashlight. G inched upward to peek over a countertop and saw a man pushing a floor polishing unit past the room. When it disappeared down the long corridor, he breathed out a long sigh of relief. He searched the room which was about the size of the OPS Center and discovered the device next to several prototypes. G grabbed the device and stuffed it into his knapsack.

Before exiting the room, he scanned down one hallway and up the other one to make sure the polishing equipment was no where in sight. G slipped through the doorway and hurried toward the exit. Once there, he pressed an ear to the door and listened for at least thirty-seconds before pushing the door open. After sliding through the opening, G hustled across the open yard, staying to the shadows. He reached the opening in the gate and slinked through it. Several minutes later, G had patched the cuts in the chain-link fence and reestablished the electrical current.

G climbed into his rental car, started the engine, and drove toward his hotel room.

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

On the high definition video screen in the OPS Center, Sam had watched his partner's daring moves to bring back a specific item from the government facility.

Eric Beale's fingers flew over the keyboard at his station searching for the description and identity of the device, while Nell Jones scanned the devices next to the one their lead agent had taken and the rest of the secure room.

"Good news and bad news," Eric said.

"Give me it all." Sam moved away from the light table where he had been leaning with his arms crossed and observing the video.

"Bad news first, this is the same device which was stolen by the Romanian woman in the Doppelgänger case from almost a year ago in July of 2011."

"And the good news?" He stepped closer to his tech.

"There's one more device like it."

"Where?"

"I'm… I don't have that information yet."

"Well, get it, fast," Sam said. "Show me the close up of this device again, Eric."

He sighed. "I can't do both—"

"I've got it, Eric," Nell said, stepping in for her partner. Eric was right. They were partners. Not partners as their other team members but partners of a different type and they worked well together. With the video on the screen, Nell smiled and glanced over at Eric for a moment and back to the screen.

"Stop, slow, three frames backward, stop." Sam edged closer to the screen. "Can you get a snap shot of—"

"Already done," Eric said, "that's what I used to ascertain the device's identity." With a few keystrokes, he positioned the high definition photograph on the screen. "Crap!"

"I don't like the sound of that."

"The other device is…." He paused and keyed in some more strokes on his computer keyboard. "Was.…"

"Was what, Eric?" Sam sighed extra loud exasperated by his tech's hesitation to complete his sentence. It was one of Eric's most annoying habits.

"Stolen."

"When? Where? How?" Sam spat off a barrage of questions and edged closer to his tech. "Was it G? Come on, man, was it—"

"No." Eric sighed and presented a grainy video with a familiar looking man.

Everyone's jaws dropped as they watched the grainy video.

"Is that Callen's—"

"Don't even say it, Deeks." Kensi gave him a soft punch in the arm. "It can't be, can it?"

"Is there any way to clean up this video?"

"You wanted fast and you got fast."

"Eric!"

"I'm working on it, Sam, as fast as I can." Eric's fingers flew over his keyboard, punching in keystroke after keystroke and clearing up the video on his own LCD monitor. "Try this." He sent the new video to the wide screen.

"Oh… my…." Hetty stepped into the OPS Center, her lower jaw dropping. She partially covered her mouth and gawked at the images on the huge screen. "This is the other device."

"Yes."

"Give me a name."

"Searching."

"What do we have so far?" Hetty asked turning to her new lead agent.

"It's confirmed that the device is the same one stolen by the Romanian woman in the Doppelgänger case from last year."

"And?"

"That's it and this video which Eric is working to improve." Sam glared at their tech when he turned to face Hetty. He watched Eric flip around on his chair to refocus on the task at hand.

Hetty eyed her lead agent. "I need to see you in the archive room, alone." She flipped on her heels and left the OPS Center.

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

Sam entered the lounge and opened his locker removing all the items he had discovered in G's glove compartment. He stuffed them into his briefcase and followed Hetty to the archive room. Once inside he sat across from her and pulled out every item and displayed them on the table between them. "I know this is what you wanted to see me about."

"Why on Earth did you keep this from me?"

"I didn't know if it had a bearing on any of our cases," he said. "Now with that new video, I have to wonder if it does."

"And you found all of this in Mr. Callen's glove compartment?"

"Yes." Sam sighed. "I thought he wanted me to find them. All of it was hidden on the bottom and taped to it. It appeared to be the bottom of the glove compartment."

"That's why the new alarm system on his car," Hetty said. "I want Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks on that car immediately, every square inch of it needs to be searched."

"I agree."

"You may go, I'm confiscating these items as part of our investigation."

Sam stood and stared down at the postcards and letters and the baby and child's sets of tableware. He kept one item in his personal possession, the baby's spoon with the Romanian love signature from G's father. Sam wanted to pass it back to his partner himself.

"Mr. Hanna, it appears something is missing from this collection."

He sighed. "I'm keeping it for him." Damn, sometimes she exasperated him with her keen abilities in observation and this was one of those times.

"I'll determine if it's an insignificant piece to the case." She held out her hand.

"I want it back ASAP."

"Sam."

He sighed again and retrieved the item from his pants pocket where he had kept the spoon ever since he found it almost two weeks ago. Sam reread the inscription on the back of the spoon and handed it over to her.

Hetty examined the baby's spoon and read the inscription. She nodded her head in agreement with her lead agent and returned it to him. "Keep it," she said. "We need to find out if this is indeed Mr. Callen's father in the video."

"My gut feeling says yes without Eric doing further research," he said. "Looks exactly like G, the mannerisms, the facial features, the… everything."

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

After washing the black smudges off his face and neck and taking a shower, G settled onto his bed in the hotel room. The device secured in the hotel room's safe, he decided to take a nap. The moment his head hit the pillow, G started to dream about the kidnapping almost two weeks ago. He jerked awake and rolled over in bed. Sleep was not going to be easy until those men were out of his life for good. G wished he could have told his partner what really happened and what those men wanted from him. Now that he 'owned' the second device he felt safer than when those men had released him. He possessed a bargaining chip and intended to use it to gain his father's release.

G grabbed the TV's remote control off the nightstand and flipped through the channels for a weather station, a global weather station. Before he settled on the specific channel he passed a news report which caught his attention. G flipped it back to the newscast and listened to the report.

'_This just came into our studio five minutes ago. A break-in at a government facility in Los Angeles caused government officials to scramble their resources in search of the identical unit housed in a facility across the country in the District of Columbia.'_

"Oh hell." G's mouth hung open. "I'm now on nationwide news." He straightened in bed, sitting upright and bringing all three pillows on the king-size bed behind his back. Maybe it is time to ask for help from Hetty and his team. This was the third time in the last twenty-four hours G had pondered the possibility of telling everyone what kind of mess he'd gotten himself and his father into, yet he stopped himself from autodialing his cell phone.

'_Sources tell us that one man is responsible for the break-in at the ultra-secure facility on the outskirts of Los Angeles. The identity of the single man is still unknown at this hour. Anyone who knows the identity and whereabouts of this shadowy and well-disguised individual is asked to call LAPD at their special hot line for the case, 877-555-1111.' _

The newscast showed a picture of him, although a mostly disguised photograph. G cringed and sighed. _I am officially screwed. _He grabbed all his belongings and stuffed them into his duffle bag and removed the device from the room's safe shoving it into his knapsack. G stood listening to the latest breaking news on the break-in.

'_An update on our breaking news story: A person of interest has been spotted at the vicinity of the Courtyard by Marriott in Simi Valley. Police are on there way there to investigate.'_

"Damn it!" G opened the drapes and glanced into the back of the hotel. After cracking a window open, he listened for sirens. Nothing_. _

G yanked on the heavy, dark blue, double draped window material pulling both the inner and outer material off the rods. He tied them together and secured them to the bathroom door's handle. After testing the hold several times, he pushed the window open all the way and slung the knapsack over his shoulders. He grabbed his duffle bag and wrapped the drapes around one arm and hand. Next he kicked the screen out and pulled it back into the room. G crawled backwards out of the window shimming down the drapes onto the rooftop a story and half below his room. Next time, if there was a next time, he needed to choose a lower floor. He rushed along the rooftop searching for an easy way down to the patio below. An emergency exit staircase to his far left looked promising. G edged toward it and found the staircase dropped down to a slide. He leaped over the handrail and took the slide down to the bottom level. A careful search of the area surrounding the hotel revealed no police presence. He strode out into the open and acted as cool and as calm as usual. This was a persona he could easily pull off.

He entered the parking area surrounding the hotel and saw the blinking red and white emergency lights in the distance coming down the Ronald Reagan Freeway. If G played his cards right, he would be heading in the opposite direction just as they pulled up to the hotel. He settled into the front seat of his rental car placing his bags on the seat and floor next to him. G backed out of his parking space and drove toward the safest place he knew, NCIS Headquarters. It meant he was about to tell Hetty and his team the whole story and the trouble he had gotten his father into too. He sighed. G entered the freeway onramp heading toward headquarters at the same time the ten police cars exited the freeway.

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

Sam and the team watched the ten police cars near G's last known location. They were all on edge until they saw the traffic cam Eric just pulled up. "He cut that one too close."

"Well, if you want to see some fancy footwork, I've got this from the hotel's back courtyard." The team watched their lead agent shimmy down tied drapes to the second floor ledge and then escape down a ramp to the courtyard.

Sam chuckled. "You've got to hand it to him, always the consummate undercover agent and escape artist." He sighed. "Track him and check his on car system to see where he's headed."

"He's shut it all down."

"What?"

"Crap!"

"What Eric, what is it?"

"They've turned around and headed back to the freeway." Eric brought up the traffic cam videos and showed the live chase going down on the Ronald Reagan Freeway. He covered his mouth with one hand attempting to contain the horror of their lead agent's possible future arrest or worse.

Sam's cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out of a deep pocket and read the text message. _'I need a diversion. Quick. Help. Coming in.'_ "G's on his way in and needs help. Call Hetty. Pull out all stops."

"Mr. Hanna, what's the situation?" Hetty rushed into the OPS Center. "I got a message from Mr. Callen."

"The police are on his tail and he might not be able to elude them for long."

She watched the scene on the high definition video screen as it was happening, her jaw slacked open. "Tell him to go back the other direction and take the Moorpark Freeway."

Eric texted Callen on screen, '_Take 118 reverse_.' "What next?"

"Nell, I need the freeway system map on this other screen." Sam stepped over to the smaller screen and eyed the system. "Tell him 118 goes into 23." G was not into the names of freeways. For his partner, it was a numbers game.

They watched Callen switch back the way he had come.

"When it gets around the curve, take Tierra back to the 118 or toward his hotel."

"He's texting about the reservoir."

"Tell him no."

"He's saying yes."

Sam texted his partner. '_Listen to me_.'

G said back. '_No, I have a better idea_.'

"Damn it." Sam repeated his message.

"He says, '_Five cars_.'"

Sam eyed the big screen and noticed his partner was right as usual. Damn, he was the most intuitive, hands on agent he knew. Five police cars took off at the hotel exit and five followed G back the other direction. His partner was screwed if he exited on Tierra. He texted back to him '_You are right_. "How fast can we get a helicopter over there to rescue him?"

"Not very fast if we use LAPD's copter," Deeks said.

"Damn it, I forgot about that," Sam said. "Private plane?"

"Yes, Mr. Hanna, perfect, I know just the fellow to help." Hetty dialed a number on her cell phone and confirmed her agent's ticket home. "Okay, it's done. Tell him to take Olson to Madera to Day Creek Ranch, first field on the right across from the residence."

The team watched their lead agent speed toward his destination going well over the speed limit.

"He's got about twenty minutes on them," Eric said, noting the distance between the five police cruisers and Callen's car. "Make that twenty-five."

They watched Callen pull into the Day Creek Ranch driveway. Everyone released a loud, long sigh.

"I've got one question, Eric, where are you getting this feed from?" Hetty asked.

"A blimp." He smirked. "And a police helicopter."

"Mr. Beale!"

"Well, you said to track him." A sheepish grin spread over his face.

Sam chuckled. He watched his partner climb on board the Gulf Stream 4. Sam breathed out a sigh of relief when the plane took off and circled over the five police cruisers as they barreled down the freeway offramp toward the mystery man's location.

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

"Debriefing in the archive room, Mr. Callen," Hetty said, greeting her lead agent at the door to NCIS Headquarters.

He followed her toward his destination, one that he loathed and yet one that was necessary. It was time he confessed his crimes and possibly she could help him find a way to remedy the situation. G stood in the doorway to the archive room and stared at the setup. He swallowed hard. It looked almost identical to the setup at the boat house. The conversation he resisted and needed was now inevitable. G sighed and entered the room, his knapsack and duffle bag in tow.

"Please have a seat in this chair." She pointed to it.

He felt as if a huge lump had formed in his now dry throat. The chair faced Hetty, Sam, and Eric. At first, he failed to understand why his tech was there until he saw two laptop computers set up next to the man. G eased his dog-tired body into the comfortable, leather easy chair. He placed his belongings onto the floor beside him.

"Can I ask one question before we start?" G said.

"Yes."

"How in the hell did you know where I was?"

"We tracked you," Eric said.

"When I accosted you in the interrogation room," Sam said, "I placed several tracking devices on you and switched your cell phone for one we rigged for tracking."

"I thought you were serious."

"Half serious, half doing the job Hetty ordered me to do."

"I pissed you off," G said. "Sorry, I couldn't tell you what I needed to do. You would've stopped me and that would endanger my family."

"Your family?" Hetty asked sitting down across from her lead agent. "You mean your father."

"Yes."

"We've tracked this back to the original Doppelgänger case in July 2011."

G sighed. "I kept this from my team because I wanted to bear the burden myself."

"What?" Sam asked sitting across from his partner.

"It's about me and my father."

"And your team, G, come on, if that case is what caused you to be kidnapped then it's about us too." Sam sighed and leaned forward. "We all worked that case together."

"No!" He shot off the chair and stared at the weapons' cleaning bench, arms crossed. "This is what I mean. We worked it together but I pulled the trigger."

"What?"

Hetty came along side her agent. "Mr. Callen, please sit and help us understand what you are going through."

"I can't stand this." G settled down on the stool behind the weapons' cleaning bench. "I brought this on myself. I pulled the trigger. I shot her."

"Who did you shoot?" Sam asked, standing and stretching and flexing his upper body to relief his stress.

"His sister, Livia," he said, lowering his voice to a barely audible whisper.

"What?" Sam stepped closer to his partner. "Who's sister?"

G stared at the blank gun cleaning table before him. "I killed the guy's sister and he's pissed."

"Mr. Callen, this is directly connected to the Doppelgänger case."

"Okay, yes, but I made it worse."

"How, G?"

He sighed and lowered his gaze to the bench's bare surface. "I got my father involved and had him steal one of the devices that man wanted."

"Steal it, why?"

"To use as collateral for my release, that is if I got taken by that man."

"You preplanned this assuming they would kidnap you?"

"Had to because they threatened me." G remembered back to that first fateful call. He wondered how that man obtained his cell phone number. It had to be connections in Europe.

"With that telephone call you received?"

"You mean the one I told you about?"

"You are telling me there was more than one," Sam said.

"Yes, sorry, I should've told you about it."

"And the first was when?"

"At least six months ago."

Sam's jaw dropped open. "At least?"

G kept a record of every strange call he received on his cell phone this particular one hitting the top of his list.

"I need to know exactly when you received that first contact by the unsub," Hetty said, interrupting their close to private conversation.

He cleared his throat. "I don't know that off the top of my—"

"Mr. Callen."

"Six months to the day after I killed his sister."

"And you kept this from me and the team?" Sam stepped closer to his partner, scrutinizing him.

"Had to after I involved my father."

"At what point did you contact your father?" Hetty asked.

In his mind, G reminisced about the first day he found his father living in Romania. "Three months after you told me about him."

"The consummate researcher," she said, "and three months later you received the initial phone call."

"Yes."

"We've researched this unsub and haven't found his name."

"It's Romanian like his sister."

"Of course it is." Sam sniggered. "Your father knows him, right?"

"Knows of him, not a personal relationship."

"You know that's what I meant." He shot his partner a look.

G winked at him. "I hoped it's what you meant."

"Maybe I ought to find the nearest fountain…."

"Are we starting with this again?" G smirked.

"A name, Mr. Callen," Hetty said, interrupting their short repartee but at the same time not wanting to interrupt it. Their humorous jabs and stabs at one another signified to her that their relationship was healthy and strong.

He lifted his gaze to the gun cleaning tools surrounding the bench. "A name which sounds familiar and yet I'm uncertain as to where I originally heard it."

"G."

"Bagoescu."

"Never heard of the name," she said.

"My father knows the name and I figured that is where I heard it years ago."

"Which one?" Eric asked, glancing up from his laptop computer. "Twelve names and counting so far."

"Serghei Bagoescu," G said, "all the Bagoescus are related to Serghei's family, in one way or another. Similar to the Comescu's extended family."

"Your father sent you the postcards and baby and young child's tableware," Sam said.

"Yes, he figured I'd want them." _My father was afraid if he got caught that I would never see them. _"He remained in Romania until I asked for his help." He sighed. "I should've asked for the team's help too."

"Mr. Callen, you shared a confidential, classified NCIS case file with your father?"

"Not exactly," he said, "my father had given me some details about a case and I knew they were related to each other."

"But you pursued it on your own anyhow."

"Yes, Sam, after all, I killed the guy's sister."

"The murder occurred during an NCIS case, Mr. Callen, this was not your vendetta nor your sole responsibility."

"I felt responsible and wanted to keep this guy's wrath from our team," G said, fidgeting with the gun cleaning devices on the bench's front shelf. "The guy contacted me not our team."

"Interpol arrested your father."

G swallowed hard and left the gun cleaning bench. He crossed his arms again and stared at the comfortable chair across the room. G desperately needed to sit down before he collapsed. He settled down in the comfortable chair again. "They arrested him because he sold the device on the black market in Europe to secure the money for my release."

"Mr. Callen!"

"Sorry, Hetty, this is the most convoluted, mixed up mess I've ever gotten myself into, and I don't know how to back myself out of it," G said. "There's more… the man my father sold the device to turned out to be an agent working for our government who was tracking espionage cases abroad."

"Your father never got the money to you," Hetty said.

"No, I promised to steal the device for the men who kidnapped me."

"That was the agreement for your release?" Sam asked.

"Yes." G sighed and leaned back in the chair. "However, I intend to use it for the release of my father."

"Exactly how do you plan to do that?" His partner asked.

"I haven't quite figured this part out." Actually, he had. His plan involved manipulating and controlling the men who had raped him.

"And the device, what did they want with it?" Sam asked.

"Same thing, use it in a 'pet project' where a full handprint is necessary."

"No idea what the 'pet project' entails?" Hetty asked.

"Nope."

"We're back to square one on that," Sam said.

"Not necessarily so," Eric said, facing his team, "the Bagoescu family appears to be involved in numerous so-called businesses. A thorough investigation into their livelihoods should reveal the plans for the device."

"I want you and Ms. Jones on this right away," Hetty said.

Eric stood to leave with his computers.

"Top priority." She turned back to her two agents. "Mr. Callen, if there is anything else we need to know about this family, I hope you'll keep us updated and informed. You two need to make this a top priority as well. Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks have continued to scour the SUV from the Doppelgänger case."

G stood and lifted his duffel bag and knapsack off the floor. "What about my arrest with Interpol?"

"I've taken care of the situation, Mr. Callen, and informed them I want your father released into our custody."

"Hetty, I… thank you," he said. "And the devices?"

"You'll be placing yours into NCIS's custody, today," Hetty said. "NCIS Headquarters in DC has already received the other device."

"I take it you haven't seen your father."

G sighed. "No."

"It's about time you two met in person."

* * *

**Thanks for reading my story.**


	5. Unknowingness

******Reviews appreciated and welcomed**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Unknowingness**

**Chapter 5**

G strode into the OPS Center with his partner. Hetty told them to meet her upstairs and yet she was a no show. And no one else was in the room. "Is this some kind of a—"

"I assure you Mr. Callen, this is no joke."

G glanced over his shoulder and watched her enter the OPS Center.

"We've got a serious problem."

"With me?"

"Partially, Mr. Callen," she said, standing closer than usual to her two agents. "I'm sorry to inform you, your father has been kidnapped."

G's jaw dropped and he staggered backward and smoothed his hand across his chest. He felt as if he had been shot point blank in the chest with a .500 magnum.

"We'll find him, G, I promise you."

"How did this happen?" He asked. "Wasn't he under NCIS escort?"

"Yes, Mr. Callen."

"Then how did this—"

"Director Vance believes there is a Baboescu on the inside."

"A Baboescu in NCIS?"

"Yes, or at least someone who's been paid off by the Baboescu family," she said. "He's started a thorough investigation into who knew about the transport of your father. And Director Vance and I are both concerned that you could be next."

"Not happening."

"You think, G, why?"

"Because I'm not turning over that device, and then I'll have a bargaining chip."

"That must have been your plan all along," Sam said.

"Okay, so it was and now it is necessary."

"Mr. Callen, how do you plan to contact them?"

"They informed me when I was captured how to proceed with a second contact once I acquired the device."

"I see," she said interlocking her hands behind her back and drawing closer to her lead agent. "Proceed with your plan and be careful."

"I will, Hetty, thanks." He flipped on heels and left the OPS Center with Sam close at his heels.

"And what do you want me to do?"

"What you do best, protect me," G said. "Remember the size of these two hoodlums that first kidnapped me."

"The image of your frightening kidnap is forever singed into my mind." Sam followed his partner downstairs and into the bullpen.

"I don't plan to carry the device to meet with them."

"No?"

"I want you to keep it safe for me until I ask you for it."

"You sure it is a good idea?"

"No, I don't know what is a good idea at this point." He knew at some point they had planned to kidnap his father and use that as a weapon of persuasion to get G to do whatever they wished. Now the worst case scenario occurred and G still was uninformed about the Bagoescu's plans for the device. He settled down at his desk and pulled a burn phone from his desk drawer.

"Where did you—"

"I planned ahead for this." He dialed the contact number on his burn phone and left a text message. Afterward, he deposited the phone in his jacket pocket, grabbed his SIG-Sauer P229, and an alias ID besides his regular ID.

"What alias?"

G glanced at his partner sideways and flashed the ID at him.

"I thought you tossed out Jason Tedrow a long time ago."

"Pulled him out for this case in order to buy burn phones."

"Why him?"

"He had a reputation."

Sam chuckled.

"I'm glad you think something is funny."

"A reputation that preceded him."

G shot his partner a look. "Thanks a lot." The corners of his mouth turned upward.

"Glad you think this is amusing."

"For now it is," he said, standing and striding toward the exit doors, "later, that's something else altogether."

Sam followed his partner. "Taking my car?"

"You take yours and I'll take mine."

"You going lone wolf on me again?" He chuckled.

G paused before walking out the doors. He pressed his comm link deeper into his ear canal. "I told you what I needed."

Sam smiled at him and pushed his comm link deeper into his ear canal."Yes, you did, I've got your back."

They climbed into their vehicles and backed down the driveway.

"I need to stop by my house to grab the device," G said, speaking into the comm link and driving the short distance to his home. When he parked on the street something felt off to him. G exited the car and stood in the front yard.

"You afraid to go inside your own home?" Sam asked.

G faced his partner's Challenger and shot him a look. "Something doesn't feel right."

"Come on, G, you just need to get back into the swing of things."

"Whatever." He flipped on his heels and strode up the walkway to his house. G pushed the key into the lock on his door and entered his home.

Before he stepped more than two feet into the living room, he was tackled from behind and his vision was darkened by a hood placed over his head. A burly man pinned him to the living room's hardwood floor. The cold metal of steel handcuffs secured both his wrists behind him. The heavy weight left his body face down on the floor.

"If you know what's good for you and I'm certain you do," a familiar voice said with a thick Romanian accent, "you'll tell me where the device is. Unless of course, you want a repeat of your first round with us, I suggest you start talking."

"Give me a chance."

"Start!"

"My partner is outside and he—"

"He's been subdued for now."

"What? How—" Someone kicked him in the groin and G stifled a yelp.

"Start talking or I'll start accosting you."

"Under my bed roll in the closet."

"We looked there, nothing, stop lying to me." He shoved his captive over onto his back.

Someone tied rope around his ankles. "It is there, I swear."

"Liar!"

A hand fumbled with G's belt buckle.

"Stop, you don't need to do this."

The Romanian man kneeled beside his captive and whispered. "Then tell me or the next act upon your body will be another gang rape."

"In the floor safe under my bed roll."

"Floor safe?"

G heard several back and forth conversations in Romanian between the Baboescu family members before at least two men rushed past him.

"Bring him."

Rough, calloused hands lifted G off the floor and dragged him toward the master bedroom. They settled him onto his knees in the room's center.

"Tell me the combination."

Cold metal pressed into the naked skin at his lower back.

"None."

"Try it."

"Got it!"

"Bring him and throw him into the trunk."

"No!"

Serghei Baboescu cold conked his captive.

G slumped face first on the bedroom's hardwood floor.

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

He swam to consciousness in a fog of pain, a pounding headache, and a drugged, groggy feeling. Before opening his eyes, G turned his head to test whether the black hood was over his head. No. One obstacle down. He opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings trying to determine his location. Nothing looked familiar.

Gripped by an odd sensation, G held his head with both hands on either side of his temples. His head felt as if it was immersed in a fish tank. G fully expected to hear the sloshing sounds of water to accompany the swimming feelings in his head. As fast as the sensations began they subsided leaving him with a stuffy head.

The site where Serghei had taken him the first time was a warehouse. This place reminded him of a fortress of some sort. Concrete walls. Concrete floors. Several windows which proved to be inaccessible even by a 7 foot tall man.

Next G performed a head to toe assessment of his whole body. At least this time he was fully clothed yet not in the clothes he wore to his house. His attire was odd yet not odd if he were a prisoner in some foreign country. G involuntarily shuddered and a shiver traveled up his spine. The real possibility of being a prisoner in a foreign country filtered through his mind and into all his senses.

G changed from a semi-alert state to a fully alert state in a matter of seconds. He checked for his weapon. G had not expected to find it on himself or anywhere near by. None. He scanned the room again searching for anything to use as a weapon. The only possibility was a single incandescent light bulb suspended from the ceiling by a light fixture. With at least a twenty foot high ceiling reaching the light fixture was impossible too. The light fixture was at the same height as the windows; at least eight feet or more off the ground.

He climbed to his feet and noticed he was barefoot. And yet the concrete floor was not chilly on his feet. Odd. G tested his steadiness and stepped forward a few feet. The drugged, groggy feeling faded more and his balance improved. Before, just sitting proved to be a demanding task. G explored the entire room before settling back down where he had awakened from his drugged sleep.

He was about to lie back down when he heard a noise by what he surmised was the door. It was the oddest opening he had seen, something on a par with a sci-fi show. G stared at the direction of the noise and waited. Serghei entered the spacious concrete room followed by several men dressed in uniforms in a color similar to his own dark blue prison outfit.

"Good, you are awake, bring him," Serghei said, motioning his men to bring his prisoner.

"How about some shoes?" G asked after the men brought him up closer to his captor.

Serghei stopped abruptly and faced his prisoner. "How about you shut your mouth unless you are spoken to?" He flipped on his heels and marched toward his destination.

The men brought G into a warmly appointed room with a bed, dresser, and ensuite bathroom. They sat him down on a chair facing a two-way mirror.

A shiver traveled up his spine. Something told him this room was not meant for anything but what Serghei had subjected him to before.

"Agent G. Callen, if you know what is good for you, you'll fully cooperate."

He involuntarily shuddered hard.

"Your father is on the other side of this two-way window."

Crap.

"If you cooperate both of you will remain unscathed," Serghei said. "If not, you'll witness his torture and he'll witness your rape."

Shit.

This was far worse than he thought, far worse, and G's mind had been busy full-time thinking about what his captor had planned. Nothing prepared him for this horrid scenario. He had not even met his father and now if he failed to cooperate they would witness each other's tortures. G cringed.

Serghei flipped the light switch.

For the first time in his adult life, G saw his father sitting in a chair similar to the one he sat on. The rooms were identical except for the people sitting and standing in them. Inside, G calmed himself. He repeated a word over and over in his mind as if it were a mantra to keep his thoughts from wandering all over the place and becoming frantic, disorganized and disengaged words which failed to make sense. Sam had taught him this technique one day in the bullpen. He said it was a game to keep your thoughts in order when under undue stress. G tried to focus on a word and Sam used anything and everything to distract him. He maintained his focus for an hour one time and congratulated himself. Now G hoped he could keep them in order until he figured out how he and his father could escape Serghei's diabolical schemes.

"And what do I want from you, you may ask," Serghei said. "Your complete cooperation for anything I wish to do with that device."

"Anything?"

"Yes, Agent G. Callen, anything," he said. "And you must agree to exactly that and nothing less."

"Can you at least give me an example of—"

"No!" Serghei slapped G across the face with a rough, calloused hand.

His head banged against the chair's back and headrest making G's head pound again.

"No stalling for time. No asking questions. No sidetracking. Nothing will be tolerated except the answer I require from you, Agent G. Callen."

G rubbed the back of his now sore head.

"Agent Callen!"

He stared at the image of his father and then the reflection of Serghei in the window. "I need more information before I can—"

"Wrong answer!"

G heard a blood-curdling scream. His father's once upright body tumbled forward, bright red blood seeping from a head wound. Whatever Serghei used to torture his father must have been similar to what that evil man had used on him several weeks ago. He flashed back to the horrendous unexpected pain and cringed. His father's pain threshold and age factored heavily into the equation; how much torture he could take before either succumbing to or dying before fulfilling their captor's request. Another shiver surged up his spine.

"Agent G. Callen, you are next." Serghei motioned for his men to proceed with whatever they had planned.

The two burly men who captured G the first time entered the bedroom and lifted G off the chair. One took a sharp knife and started to cut off the prisoner's shirt.

"Stop!"

"Wrong answer."

The second man filled a syringe with a slightly yellow, clear liquid.

G cringed and struggled to free himself.

"You fight this and I'll have them torture you too."

"Yes, okay, yes, whatever you want me to do."

Serghei got in his face. "You'll sign an agreement to that fact," he whispered in a disturbing, harsh voice.

"Whatever you want."

"Bring the papers for him to sign."

G expected to have more time to finagle his way out of the agreement. A paper with very few words typed on it was presented to him on a clipboard. "Do I have time to read this?"

"Go right ahead."

He read through the words, twice, before reaching for the pen to sign it.

Serghei took the paper and pen from his prisoner and handed them back to one of his men. "You may release his father back into NCIS's custody."

"I want to see him."

"No."

G watched his father disappear from the other room. He surged toward the door attempting to follow his father. The two burly men pushed him backward and shoved him face first down on the bed.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop fighting the inevitable," Serghei said, leaning over the bed his mouth inches from his prisoner's ear. "You are _mine_ to do with as I wish. You will obey me or be tortured and raped just as the agreement stated and you signed."

G released the breath he was holding.

"Cuff him and bring him."

The men lifted G off the bed and handcuffed his hands behind his back. They each looped a hand into one of their prisoner's arms and followed Serghei down the long corridor. The concrete corridors echoed their footsteps until they reached the last room on the left. Serghei entered first followed by his prisoner.

"This is _our_ room."

G cringed, he knew the meaning behind Serghei's words, and now there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	6. Freedom

**Reviews appreciated and welcomed**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Freedom**

**Chapter 6**

Blood dripped down his hands and splashed onto his dark blue prison outfit sprinkling it with deep purple spots. He stared at the body before him; the lifeless body he had bludgeoned with his bare hands and choked with the stainless steel handcuffs he once wore. Only one thing crossed his mind—escape. He collected his thoughts and steeled himself against what was to come next. And lastly, he stuffed the torrent of emotions trying to bubble upward down deeper within him. His next move demanded every ounce of inner strength he could muster without the debilitating effects of his emotional state.

G straightened and removed the keys from Serghei Baboescu's jacket pocket where it hung over the back of a leather chair. A thorough inspection of his captor's jacket revealed a wallet with a wad of cash. G pocketed the money which included foreign money from various countries, too many to take note of, before he stuffed it all into his deepest pants pocket. He took off one of Serghei's shoes and measured it against his foot, larger, but it would have to do for now. After fitting both oversized, brown leather shoes on his feet, which were too stylish for his tastes, G scoured the room for a weapon. Hidden under the mattress on Serghei's side of the bed, he discovered a .375 Magnum gun and round of bullets loaded in the chamber. He hoped that would be enough for his escape.

The first act G performed after Serghei locked him in the room was a scan of everything including a search for cameras and microphones. As he surmised the room was private and designed for one thing. It was memories of that one thing G now stuffed deep within him. He shuddered even thinking about the possibility of that occurring one more time with the monster of a man who he bludgeoned and choked to death. G steeled himself again and opened the heavy door which revealed the concrete corridor.

He scanned the corridor from left to right and attempted to remember where the exit was from his position. At least drugs no longer affected his mind and reasoning and blaming the drugs was ludicrous. _I am a trained and skilled Federal Agent who is supposed to be able to work under the most adverse conditions_. G stepped toward the left and changed his mind at the last minute. A faint memory filtered back into his mind. He hurried along the corridor on his right leaving partial bloody footprints behind him. Upon reaching a "T" in the corridor, G stood and stared at the wall and panted attempting to catch his breath. After scanning up and down the corridors, he leaned over and attempted to bring up a memory of where to turn next. Nothing. He chose left and rushed along the corridor his shoes still leaving bloodied prints behind him while their soles slapped out echoes against the concrete walls.

With his gun drawn and ready, G slowed and approached a guard station. Empty. Odd. A shiver traveled up his spine. He edged past it, ready and watching for any movement. G took the keys from a pocket on his dark blue pants and opened the door before him. He had expected to find a modern keyed entrance and exit and instead discovered Serghei's souped up stronghold required the use of regular keys.

Once outside the compound, G kept to the shadows and walls of the building until he reached a familiar area. His jaw dropped. The location answered a question which had haunted him from the first kidnapping. The building was situated on a block only minutes from his house. Again a shiver traveled up his spine. On the street, G spied a vehicle which was used in his first kidnapping. He crouched low and edged toward it, keeping to the bushes and shadows until he was even with the rear bumper. G raised up and peered into the back of the dark SUV. No one. He edged along the passenger side low to the ground and eyed the side view mirror. No reflection. Darkened and heavily tinted windows. G sprung up and pointed his weapon at the dark window. Empty. He took the keys again and fumbled for a perfect fit. No key worked. Crap.

G hurried over to the shadows again and kept hidden in the bushes until he was several blocks from Serghei's stronghold. Even though his clothes were covered with his captor's blood, he walked down the sidewalk with his gun shoved into a pocket, no longer willing to stay hidden in the shadows. G avoided his own home and chose the boat house over NCIS Headquarters. He wanted a place to crash without drawing any attention to himself. A question and answer session with his partner or Hetty was the last thing he needed right now.

At this time of the night, an open clothes store had proven to be a fruitless search. G discovered a discarded jacket in a dumpster and covered his bloodied dark, blue shirt with it. With it covering the most bloody part of his clothes, he drew less attention to himself as he boarded his first bus.

* * *

**Thanks for reading my story.**


	7. Lost

**Reviews welcomed and appreciated**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Lost**

**Chapter 7**

G curled up on the floor in the upper interrogation room and pulled a blanket over his chilled and exhausted body. The room was rarely used for interrogations, and he hoped no one would discover his presence up here. After he arrived near the boat house, G found a nearby food stand which had started to open for early morning surfers and boaters. The 4 AM crowd. He grabbed a hot coffee and several donuts and tipped the man in addition to paying him. It was the only food G had eaten in twenty-four hours. Before he entered the boat house, he discarded all evidence of his food and drink into a dumpster along with the jacket he had found earlier. Or as Hetty was fond of saying to him, 'keep that disgusting thing out of here.' The article of clothing had served its purpose—it kept his bloodied top hidden from curious onlookers on the buses he had taken.

G settled into a fitful sleep filled with execrable nightmares. The moment sleep overtook his exhausted body and mind horrifying images startled him awake. Flashes of memories from his past encounter with Serghei infiltrated the newest memories. The memories collided and punctured moments of restful and restorative sleep. G tossed and turned again and again until he gave up and positioned himself against an outside wall with a full view of the door.

He was certain a noise came from downstairs. G readied his weapon and kept it on his lap. A creak on the stairs down the hallway from the interrogation room. G brought the gun up with both hands and sighted it at the door aiming it at head level for the average intruder. He held his breath and pulled the trigger back readying the gun to fire. Footfall outside the door. Breath held. Steadied hand. Trigger ready. The door handle moved. He shivered. Stared at the door as it slowly opened. In the shadows outside the room he recognized his partner's form.

Sam reached for the light switch.

"Don't."

"G!" He stepped inside the room.

"Don't come any closer."

Sam eyed the gun in his partner's hands. "You going to shoot me?"

G lowered his weapon and replaced the safety. "Don't tempt me."

"You okay?"

"Stupid question." He settled the gun down on the floor next to him.

"Not stupid from my point-of-view."

G eyed his blood spattered dark blue shirt, purple stains marked the entire front of his shirt. "It's not mine if that what you are worried about."

"Have you looked in the mirror at yourself?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" G yelled at him, grabbed the gun off the floor, and climbed to his feet. "Just get the hell out!"

"Easy, man, easy," Sam said holding up both hands.

G had wondered why people stared at him on the bus in spite of his shirt being covered by the dumpster jacket. And the guy at the food stand, he nervously hurried to fulfill G's order. He stared down at his blood caked hands. The once sticky substance had long since dried and formed a dry, crackled look which reminded him of the cracked glazes found on pottery. _I never thought to look at my hands and face. Crap._

"Go downstairs and wash up before Hetty and your father get here."

"What?" G's jaw dropped wide open. "Here? When?"

Sam glanced at his watch. "Less than twenty now."

"Can't."

"What?" His eyebrows raised up.

"Just leave… now… no more questions." He readied his weapon and pointed it at his partner.

"G, put it down."

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. With a slight tremble in his hands, the gun wavered in the air. "Go." G motioned toward the door with the gun.

"You need help, man, bad."

"Just shut up!"

Sam slowly backed out of the door with his hands raised. "I'm just saying—"

"Out!"

He closed the door.

G kept the weapon trained on the door and settled back down on the floor drawing the blanket around his chilled body.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	8. A Deep Wound

******Reviews appreciated and welcomed. Thanks for the reviews.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**A Deep Wound**

**Chapter 8**

G crawled on his hands and knees out of the interrogation room and scanned the meeting area below him. No partner. Luck was on his side at least for now. While keeping his gun readied at his side, he descended the stairs and hurried past the main interrogation room toward the back exit. G opened the door and stepped out onto the deck around the boat house. He froze. Sam stood in the parking lot drinking something hot probably coffee. G inched toward the exit plank keeping as quiet as possible. The last thing he needed right now were more questions. Now on the asphalt parking lot, he rushed to hide behind the dumpster he had thrown his trash and jacket into earlier.

"Come to talk to me?" Sam asked keeping his back to his partner.

G startled. "Can't." He lowered his voice.

"Let's go for a drive." He climbed into the driver's seat and waited.

From behind the dumpster, he straightened and stared at the Challenger less than ten feet from him.

Sam leaned his head out the window. "I promise I won't bite." G walked over to the Challenger and settled onto the passenger seat and closed the door. Sam revved the engine and drove back the way he came. "Do you want a shower at my place? I take it you haven't been home."

"Yes to both."

"Hungry?"

"Affirmative."

"That's my partner, a man of so few words."

"Can't."

"It's okay," Sam said, "I called Hetty and told her a situation came up. I mentioned nothing about you."

G stared at the passing cars. "Thanks."

"Bacon and eggs?"

"Fine." He settled his gun on the floorboard.

Sam sighed.

"Sorry."

"I understand," he said, "something happened. It's written all over your face and your clothes."

Wetness welled up in his eyes. He faced the passenger window and stared at the passing freeway signs mindless of where his partner was driving. Even though a feeling of safety crept over him for the first time in days, G felt edgy. He readied himself for the slightest movement of anything or anyone toward him, readied himself to grab Serghei's .375 magnum off the floorboard, and readied himself to jump out of the moving car. That last thought shocked G and yet he felt the urgent need to protect himself at all costs. "Can't."

"Not asking you to."

"Thanks."

"Clothes?"

"Shit!" G grabbed the door handle and started to pull up on it.

"Stop, I'm asking if you want me to stop to get you some clothes?" Sam studied his partner's face and body.

"No!" He released the door handle and clenched his fists at his sides. "Sorry. Damn. Can't stand how I feel inside."

"We'll figure out something at the house." Sam pulled off the freeway and drove toward his home. After turning down his street, he pulled into and parked in his driveway and shut down the engine. "I'm sorry too."

"About what?"

"That you are suffering." Sam climbed out of the Challenger and strode toward the front door. G followed his partner staying at least five feet behind him and carrying the weapon in his right hand. Sam opened the front door. "No loaded weapons allowed in my house."

G backed up several feet and started to turn.

"I'll make an exception this once."

G flipped on his heels and followed his partner into the house.

"I won't show you where everything is because you already know," Sam said. "While you are cleaning up I'll make you breakfast."

"Thanks." G plodded down the long hallway to the guest bathroom. At the hall linen closet, he grabbed several huge bath towels and a wash cloth and afterward entered the bathroom. He closed and locked the door and rested against it attempting to gather the strength to look at himself in the full length mirror behind him. G walked over to a shelf and placed his towels and wash cloth on it. After sucking in a huge breath, he flipped on his heels and faced the mirror. "Oh shit!" His jaw dropped open. He stepped closer to it. G raised his hand to his face and touched a spot on his chin. Blood. Pieces of bloodied flesh. "Shit." G collapsed to his knees before the full length mirror. Caked on dried blood. He trailed his finger upward keeping it light against his dried-blood and flesh-speckled covered face.

The memory of bludgeoning Serghei flooded his mind, again. He squeezed his eyes shut, rolled onto his side, rocked himself, and howled as if he were a wounded animal caught in a trap and abandoned in an isolated forest.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	9. Survival

**Reviews appreciated and welcomed**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Survival**

**Chapter 9**

Sam took the bacon and eggs out of the refrigerator and started to prepare them. His partner's screams coming from the bathroom stopped him. Sam rushed down the hallway to the guest bathroom and found the door locked. Damn. He loathed the idea of invading his partner's privacy especially with the way he had acted with the loaded gun and his odd behavior. Sam removed his skeleton key set from his pants pocket and inserted it into the bathroom door's keyhole.

Sam was not prepared for what he saw yet he knew what needed to be done. As long as his partner was not physically injured, Sam determined it was time to take care of him the way he had been cared for during a traumatic moment in his life. The incident occurred years before G and him met for the first time and worked as partners. A Navy SEALS partner helped him recover. This present situation required something which might trigger his partner and yet it was necessary. Sam hoped his partner did not take anything the wrong way based on the last time he helped G after the rapes his chances were slim.

Sam noticed G's lack of awareness to his presence in the bathroom. That in itself was an ominous sign. He lifted his partner off the floor and undressed him making sure the clothes were kept separate from the laundry. They represented evidence of a crime committed by his partner. Afterward he settled G on the covered toilet seat and snapped several pictures of his blood spattered and flesh speckled face and neck and hair.

Sam stripped off his own clothes and brought G into the shower and allowed the water to run down his partner's body without washing him. With the past encounter with Serghei and the gang rape, Sam was not taking chances with evidence. If his partner confessed to another gang rape then Sam resolved to take him to the hospital. Yet G insisted that this was not his blood and Sam saw no evidence that it was. Enough evidence had splattered onto G's shirt and pants and the pictures of his partner's face, neck, and hair told the rest of the story. Not a good one.

After several minutes without G stirring from his semi-conscious state, Sam started to wash his partner's hair, face, and neck. He continued with a light washing of his partner's body and rinsed him. Sam brought G into the master bedroom and laid several towels on the bed. He settled G onto them and covered him with several more.

Upon seeing all of this up close, Sam concluded it was time to inform his operations manager of the situation. He paced the hallway outside the room trying to decide what to say, how much to reveal, and when to quit. A censored telephone call to his operations manager was not the best of plans for him, for G, or for their partnership. Damned either way. He autodialed her number and waited for her to speak first.

"Mr. Hanna, where in the blazes are you? You said a drive not a trip to the moon. I need you here at the boat house."

He wanted to laugh at her rant. If the situation with his partner had been less serious he might have, instead he smiled. "We've got a serious problem."

"We?" Hetty asked.

"Yes, with G."

"You found him?"

"Not exactly."

"Mr. Hanna."

He understood what that meant. Talk. Now. "I found G in the boat house when I arrived there this morning."

"And?"

"He's," he lowered his voice and walked further away from the master bedroom, "incapacitated at the moment."

"You are at your home?"

"Yes, Hetty." She _had_ to read minds.

"I'm on my way as we speak."

"What about his father?"

"Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks are here and will continue the _conversation_ with him."

He listened to his operations manager rev the motor on her sports car and the phone disconnected. G was in trouble now. Sam walked back down the hallway and entered his walk-in closet. He rummaged through his wife's sweats looking for a well worn set. After finding the perfect color, deep teal, for his partner, he returned to the bedroom.

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

"Bastard!" G was sitting on the bed facing Sam as he walked out of the closet.

"Let me explain—"

"Nothing. I'll let you explain nothing." G grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist and crossed the short distance between them taking the clothes from his partner's hands. G walked into the closet, closed the door, and dressed in the sweats. "Who's sweats?" He stared at the short length which looked more like capris than pants.

"Hers."

"What the hell!" G stomped out of the closet. "I hope you don't expect me to wear her high heeled shoes too."

"I should get you angry more often."

G shot him a look. "What?"

"Makes you speak more words."

"Screw you!"

"Okay, I know you are pissed about the shower—"

"Again, you did it again. How could you? Why? I trusted you. Screw you."

"Okay, I deserve it all."

"Every damned word of it."

"Yes, agreed." Sam sighed.

"I need to see those clothes and the gun and I'll be on my way."

"Fat chance."

"Fat chance for what?"

"Any of those requests, Mr. Callen." Hetty stood in the doorway to the master bedroom.

G shot his partner an evil look. "You didn't." His crossed his arms.

Sam crossed his arms. "I did."

"Mr. Callen, you and I need to have a fireside chat in the living room."

"A what?" He flipped on his heels to face her.

"I started the fire, let's go." She curled her finger motioning her lead agent to follow her down the hallway.

G acted as if he was going to obey her but made a side trip into the bathroom. "Where the hell is my gun?"

Sam stepped into the bathroom's doorway. "I told you, loaded weapons are not allowed in my house."

"The pants?"

"Confiscated for evidence."

G lowered his voice. "You are a dead man in this partnership."

"I heard that."

"Good, out of my way."

Sam stepped aside.

G plowed past his partner and down the hallway toward the living room and passed it continuing toward the front door.

"Mr. Callen."

"No, the answer is no."

"Shoes?" Sam asked bringing his partner a pair of slippers.

He reached for the doorknob. "Screw the damned shoes."

"If you walk out that door—"

"Here come the threats," G said. "Is that it? Threaten me with suspension unless I sit down and have a fireside chat with you."

"Not exactly, Mr. Callen," Hetty said, "I was going to say you won't have a chance to see your father later on today. With you back, there's no need for him to stay and help us find you."

"Oh." He muttered more to himself.

"And what about your bacon and eggs."

"Lost my appetite."

"My suggestion is to follow her orders, and I'll feed you breakfast."

"And forget about what you did to me in the damned bathroom?"

"You still harping on that?"

"Yes." His biggest problem with the bathroom, he blacked out after looking at himself in the mirror. G's memory failed him when he needed it the most. Well, except the other memory, the one he wanted to forget and could not. Make that two horrible memories he wanted to forget and could not. He shivered. "Can't talk about this."

"Then the pictures and the clothes will," Sam said. He laid out the clothes G had worn earlier on the living room coffee table for Hetty to see. Next he showed her the pictures on his camera.

G faced his partner and watched him. "What the hell?" He crossed the room and started to remove the clothes from the coffee table.

"Leave them, Mr. Callen."

"Why?"

"They are evidence."

"I… damn this…" Tear welled up in his eyes. He averted his gaze from both of them and backed away.

"G stop running from this."

"Can't do this. Can't."

Sam handed Hetty the camera and came along side his partner. "Come on into the kitchen and let me fix you breakfast."

"And she'll… arrest me?"

"What?" His eyebrows raised up. "Do you think I'm conspiring against you?"

G lower lip trembled. "I can't. Don't. Need to go. Not hungry." He crossed the room again and shoved his feet into the slippers by the front door. Tears steadily streamed down his face. G opened the front door and walked outside.

"Get him please."

"And do what with him, Hetty? Can't you see he's traumatized by whatever happened? He can't handle any questions beyond the simplest ones."

"Just bring him back in here. No questions asked. Feed him. Take care of him."

Sam walked outside and stood next to his partner on the front porch.

"I heard her."

"And?"

"After she leaves I'll come inside." G settled down on a bench beside the front walkway which faced Sam's quiet neighborhood.

Hetty paused by the bench and gazed in the same direction as her lead agent. "Anything you wish for me to convey to your father?"

"Can't right now."

"I'll tell him you look forward to spending time with him when this is all over."

"It will never be all over." G feared he had started another round of vengeance by the Baboescu family. Now he had the blood of two Baboescues on his hands, literally on his hands in the case of Serghei. And his face. And his neck. And his hair. Crap.

Hetty walked to her sports car.

G watched her leave. He stood and plodded toward the house. "I'm hungry," he said walking by his partner. He crossed the living room and stared at where his clothes had been. "Crap."

"She had to take them."

"To arrest me?" His lower lip trembled again.

"I don't think that is her intention." Sam spoke to him from the kitchen doorway.

G settled down on the sofa and stared at a speckle of human flesh which had fallen off his shirt. He cringed and flashed back to moment he decided to end it. Serghei approached him for sex. He started that sickeningly sweet talk. G gagged, literally, gagged. Serghei's body that close to him caused him to gag. Too close to him. His smell. An odor now unforgettable—a strong musky cologne mixed with sweat. He gagged again. Earlier G had picked the lock on his handcuffs with the bobby pin he kept hidden in the wristband of his watch. The moment Serghei touched him, G struck with a calculated and well planned force. He focused on the kill blocking out all other senses and needs and wants.

Kill.

Kill and survive or die to self, again.

He chose survival.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	10. Vengeance

**Reviews appreciated and welcomed. Thanks for the reviews.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Vengeance**

**Chapter 10**

Sam brought in their brunch and settled down next to G on the sofa. "You okay?"

G startled and stared at his partner. "Hungry." He picked up a plate and started to eat.

"Did you just have a flashback?"

"Yes, okay, let's drop it."

"You want to heal from what happened to you?"

G answered by eating more of his bacon and eggs and refusing to answer his partner's question.

Sam finished his brunch of fresh fruit and whole wheat toast.

"No bacon for you."

"That's right I don't possess the excellent genetics you do."

G stuck his tongue out at him.

"Don't push it."

"Maybe I'll talk later, maybe."

"I can only hold off the calvary for so long."

G finished his bacon and eggs and set the plate on the coffee table. "Hetty, right?"

"She going to ask you sooner or later."

He folded his arms and leaned back into the sofa.

"Might be easier if you told me first."

"I lost it."

"With Serghei?"

G sighed. "Yes." Another flashback bombarded his vision blasting through his defenses. He leaped to his feet and grabbed both their plates bussing them to the kitchen.

Sam followed him. "Happened again?"

"Damn, you are perceptive."

"We've been partners for over five years."

"You are becoming like Hetty, reading my mind and getting inside it."

"I hope not," Sam said, smiling.

G rinsed the dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. "Me too, for your sake and mine." He cracked his first smile, well at least a half-smile, in two days.

"Living room?"

"A place to hide would be better."

"I understand."

"The moon."

"You overheard that conversation with Hetty on the phone."

"Yes, faked being out of it when you came back into the bedroom."

"You _are_ well trained."

"Have to be in order to survive…" G walked back into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. Sam followed suit and sat at the opposite end of the sofa. "If I thought the Baboescues had anger issues before, I've only renewed their vengeance against me now."

"Your need to survive did this."

"I'm a… cold-blooded… killer."

"Because you needed to survive."

"Damn it!" G shot off the sofa and stood before the fireplace arms crossed staring at the fake logs which still glowed red one half hour after the flames had died down. He lowered his voice. "I bludgeoned his body with my bare hands."

"And you believe this means what?"

"I told you," G said facing his partner, "I'm a cold-blooded murderer."

"That's why you broke down and howled as if you were a wounded animal in the bathroom," Sam said. "That's not a cold-blooded killer. You showed me the heart of a man who's in turmoil after what he did."

Tears welled up in G's eyes. He flipped on his heels to avoid his partner's scrutinizing eyes.

Sam came along side him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Let it go, man, you did nothing wrong."

He jerked away from him. "No!"

Sam brought his partner back to his side keeping an arm wrapped around his shoulders. "You need this connectedness."

"It was sadistic."

"The murder, not you."

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "I pre-planned it."

"How far in advance?"

"The moment I stepped into that room alone with Serghei."

"Doesn't constitute pre-meditated murder," Sam said. "You are trying to be your own jury and judge and executioner, and it's not going to work with me."

"You study law?"

"Nope, tried to use the same lame excuses myself one time and a friend proved me wrong."

"I'm trying to keep this together."

"Don't."

"This sounds stupid."

"Maybe not."

"If I lose it will you… crap…"

"Will I hold in my arms and let you fall apart?"

G sighed and crossed his arms, again. "Yes."

"Yes."

"Good," he said, whispering. "I hope it won't come to that. I lost it once already and maybe it won't happen again."

"Good luck with that scenario."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." G ducked under Sam's arm and walked back to the sofa. "Enough man hugs for this morning."

"Headquarters?"

"Only if you promise we'll stop at my house for some normal clothes."

"You saying my wife's sweats aren't normal."

"For capris, they're normal." G chuckled.

"Now there's the first real laugh I've heard from you."

_I need to enjoy this while it lasts because the next crash… I do not know what it will bring and what effect it will have on me._

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

The edgy feeling creeped upon him again as he dressed in his blue jeans and a dark teal blue t-shirt in his bedroom. Even with Sam in the living room, G startled at every sound no matter how slight. Acute traumatic stress was a bitch. He longed for the day when his edginess was gone, and he lived without the fear of reprisal. G brought his shoes and socks out into the living room and sat on the floor.

Sam started to stand. "I could've—"

G waved him down with a hand. "No, sit, I'm fine." After donning his work boots, he climbed to his feet and gathered his ID and wallet. "Ready?"

Sam stood and stretched.

"It's going to be a long day, sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Right, I killed Serghei and whatever retribution comes our way is not my fault?"

"There's the first time you've admitted to killing him."

"What?" G glanced at him sideways.

"You've skirted it."

"You are right, I didn't want to admit it." He grabbed his keys off the mantel where he left them upon entering his home.

"Telling me you are a cold-blooded killer is not admitting to the murder."

"All right, Sam, you've made your point." He pushed another flashback back down inside away from the light of day and from complete exposure. G flipped on his heels and strode toward the front door.

"Get down!" Sam yelled over the rapid gun fire now pelting the front of G's home.

G plastered himself against the hardwood floor drawing a gun from his ankle holster. Now, he was pleased with his choice to purchase the item several months ago. G slinked on his belly toward the front windows along side his partner. Sam was on his cell phone calling for reinforcements from both Hetty and the Los Angeles Police Department. A call rang through on his own cell phone. G noted the phone number. Alexandru, Serghei's brother. A shiver traveled up his spine. He answered it and placed the call on speakerphone while placing a single finger against his lips.

"We're coming for you. You are a deadman. Consider yourself _erased_ by midnight tonight." The caller with a heavy Romanian accent hung up.

"This day just got a whole lot longer," G whispered to his partner.

* * *

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	11. Retaliators

**Thank for the reviews!**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Reviews appreciated and welcomed**

* * *

**Retaliators**

**Chapter 11**

G lowered himself into the Challenger's seat. This scenario manifested all the markings of the original Doppelgänger case over a year ago. Except now his retaliators' rage doubled with the discovery of their brother Serghei's death. G had the blood of two Baboescues on his hands. If he believed he was a marked man before, his chance of sudden death by his retaliators had increased two-fold.

"I know that look."

"What?" G stared at the side view mirror as Sam took off down the street toward headquarters.

"This isn't your fault."

He faced his partner. "Like hell it isn't!"

"Come on, she came after you and they kidnapped you."

"I could've stopped them all."

"What?" Sam's eyes brows raised high. "Prevented Livia from hunting you down?"

"Well, maybe not that."

"And you had a choice about killing her?"

"Okay, no." G straightened in his seat. "We've got a tail."

Sam eyed his side view mirror. "LAPD."

"Remember the LAPD's link to the Baboescu's family."

"Paranoid."

"I'm not," he said watching the black SUV gaining ground on them. "They're closing in on us."

"Protective detail."

"Optimist."

"Pessimist."

G's cell phone vibrated in his pant's pocket. He startled.

"Jumpy."

"Don't rub it in," he said smirking, "…too much." He viewed the caller ID before answering it. "Hetty."

"Got the police escort?"

G felt the heat rise to his face. "Yes, right on time, thanks."

"Remember, no ear wig communications until further notice," she said. "We'll see you when you arrive."

He shut off his phone and pocketed it.

"And?"

"I'm paranoid."

"Thought so." Sam snickered.

"Optimist." G stretched and relaxed in his seat. "Don't rub it in."

"Now where were we…"

"I thought we finished."

"We only finished if you are not blaming yourself for this all out—"

"War against me."

"It's not a war, G."

"What would you call it then?"

"Retaliation."

He chose his next words carefully hoping not to receive any more comments from his partner. "A crusade."

Sam shook his head and chuckled.

"You think this is funny?"

"Nope."

"Then what?"

"You and your use of words."

G folded his arms and huffed out his indignation. "Now my use of the English language is coming under fire."

"An exaggeration of mega proportions."

"Now who's exaggerating."

Sam chuckled, again. G sighed. End of discussion. Sam pulled into the driveway to headquarters and their protection detail stayed parked on the street. They both climbed out of the Challenger at the same time and strode toward the entrance doors. "You ready to meet your father?"

G folded his arms and averted his gaze. "No."

"What?" Sam glanced at him sideways.

"If it wasn't for me—"

"You've got to be kidding."

"No." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Get your head on straight."

G shot him a look. "It is."

Sam eyed his partner's face.

"What?"

"He doesn't care about what happened, he cares about you."

G placed his hand on the doorknob and Sam pulled him aside before he entered the building. "What's with you, man?"

"You and your attitude about your father," he said. "Give it a rest."

"I almost got him killed."

"But you didn't, you saved his life."

"It was a setup."

"What?"

"All they wanted was me," G said pulling away from Sam's hold on his left arm. "And almost got him killed."

"Let this go."

"I can't." G opened the door and stepped inside. Sam followed his partner to the bullpen.

"Mr. Callen, a word with you."

G huffed out his disgust. He crossed the room and refused to enter her office area.

"Mr. Callen."

"I can't."

"I haven't asked for a debriefing, Mr. Callen."

He sighed and crossed his arms. "Then what?"

"Your father is waiting for you in the archive room."

"Great." G muttered to himself and stared at the front of her desk.

"Maybe a debriefing _is_ in order."

"No debriefing," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "I'm not going to talk about what happened." G flipped on his heels and crossed back over to the bullpen.

Hetty followed him and stood behind the iron lattice work around the bullpen. "The gym, now, Mr. Callen."

He settled down into his seat without glancing her way. "No."

Sam sidled up to his partner. "Hetty, he talked to me."

"And he refuses to see his father."

"Issues."

"What kind of issues?"

"Guilt."

"Be sure he deals with it," she said, flipping on her heels and crossing back across to her office.

"That's two you owe me," Sam said. "Time to meet your father."

He pounded his right fist against his desktop. "Screw that!" G gritted his teeth. "It's more than guilt. I _am_ responsible for his kidnapping."

"Guilt."

G pushed his chair back and leaped to his feet. "I need to shoot something." Sam followed G toward the firing range. They stopped short of it, G staring through the archive room window at his father reading a magazine. "Crap." For the second time in his adult life, he saw his father. G wavered trying to determine which move to make next. He turned the corner and entered the archive room. "Papa," he said in Romanian with a barely audible voice. G hesitated by the entrance.

George Callen raised his eyes from the magazine on his lap. "My son," he said speaking in Romanian with a thick accent. He threw the magazine aside and stood waiting for his son to approach him.

"Sorry," G said in Romanian. "It's my fault." His mouth dried up and he mouthed the last words.

George closed the gap between them and took his son into his arms. G broke down in his father's arms, tears flooding his eyes and falling on his father's shoulders and back. "Nothing to be ashamed of, son, nothing." He patted his boy's back.

G needed this and had not known it until his father hugged him. He relaxed in the man's arms and allowed himself to fall apart, again.

* * *

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	12. Bait, Again

**Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Reviews appreciated and welcomed**

* * *

**Bait, Again**

**Chapter 12**

The plan was too familiar. Part of him loathed the idea of placing himself in harm's way again. Another part of him deserved every ounce of punishment the enemy wished to exact on him. After all, he murdered Serghei in cold-blood with his bare hands.

Due to the discovery of the Baboescu's ability to scan the ear comm links, G and his team had to rely on hand signals and pre-arranged signals and cell phones. He was glad. More punishment G believed he deserved, problems with the teams' communication. With each new problem thrown against the team, he took it on and carried the guilt.

If he had not murdered Livia and Serghei his day would have been filled with much needed sleep and getting to know his father.

In the archive room, G packed his gear into a small duffle bag and afterward slung it over his left shoulder. He stood by his partner waiting for him to finish packing his gear.

"Nothing to do?"

"What?"

"Bored and need to watch me," Sam said.

G sighed. "Nerves, that's all."

He raised his eyes and met his partner's. "Liar."

"Okay, you caught me."

"Guilt, you need to let it go."

"More accurately, self-condemnation."

"Same thing."

G crossed his arms and glared at his partner.

"What? You want me to lie to you?"

"You ready?"

"Aw, it's the bait and switch game," Sam said getting up from the weapons cleaning bench. He zipped up his duffle bag and slung it over his right shoulder. "Did you have a good talk with your father?"

"Sort of."

"And?" Sam raised his eyebrows.

"My name, right, is that all you want to know?"

"It's burning my ears."

G eyed his partner's ears. "Don't look singed to me." He strode toward the exit.

Sam followed him and chuckled. "You are a funny guy."

"You too." G faced him and smirked. "It's an initial."

He shook his head. "Of course it is."

"No, I mean, it is an initial and meant to be that way."

"You are serious?"

"I've no reason to lie to you."

"Your father gives you an initial for your first name and you don't think that's strange."

"It's not my first name."

"The plot thickens."

"Would work if this was a story I'm telling but it's not," G said smirking. "It's his name and he named that way me to protect our identities."

"From the Comescues?"

"Yes." G headed out the exit.

"Wait, let's finish this."

"We need to go."

"You are not getting off that easy," Sam said, grasping his partner's duffle bag and turning him in his direction. "Tell me your first name."

"You probably won't like it."

"Try me."

"Dimitri."

"I like it and it fits you."

"But what?"

"I'm calling you G."

He shook his head. "Why I bother telling you in the first place is beyond me." The corners of his mouth turned upward. "Officially my name is Gregory Dimitri Callen."

"Wait a minute, you just said—"

He strode through the exit. Without looking back at his partner he said, "I wanted to try it on for size."

"I'm going to try you on for size." Sam followed him into the hallway joining the main area of NCIS Headquarters. "You played me so well."

"Like a well worn fountain needing an overhaul," he said, stopping at his desk and loading up his pants pockets with his keys, ID, and wallet.

"Don't push it," he said.

"Are you finally going to find a fountain and drown me in it?"

"Are we starting that again?"

"Did we finish it the last time?"

"You got me."

"And?"

"I owe you one."

"Maybe you'll make good on your promise this time."

"Is that why you arranged to meet them at a spot with a fountain?"

"Precisely." G smirked. "Ready for the preliminaries at the boat house?"

"I like the sound of your name as it rolls off your tongue."

"Right, you haven't even said it."

"To myself about ten times already, Gregory Dimitri Callen."

"Don't wear it out." G smirked.

They strode toward the Challenger.

"Police escort?" G asked, walking out into the courtyard. He scanned the area and down the hill toward the street. "No where in sight."

"Odd."

They both grabbed their weapons and edged along the building until they had a clear visual of the street below.

"Crap, no police escort." G took in a deep breath and released it with a shaky sigh. "But we might have a Baboescu family escort. Who tipped them off?" He kept his voice lowered.

"Maybe they're tracking more than the comm links."

"Plans?" G eyed his partner.

"I'm going to miss that fountain dunk."

"I'll make it up to you, somehow, somewhere, someday."

"You hope."

"I take it that means you are out of options." G pointed to the headquarters' door.

They scrambled back to the door and slipped inside using only hand signals to communicate. Sam told G he would take the upper level. After locking the doors, they each started out on their appointed rounds searching every room for signs of an intruder or intruders.

Thirty minutes later, they reported back to each other without any signs of the Baboescu family.

G wrote on a slip of paper. "Maybe we're not surrounded as we believe."

"New theory." Sam answered him back.

"Make our way to the boat house without using the Challenger."

"Good plan." Sam wrote. "Your car?"

"Let's take a car they never saw before." G crossed the room to Hetty's desk and rummaged through her key sets searching for the one which would fit the bill — the fastest and least likely to be recognized. He held up the keys.

Sam mouthed to him. "She'll kill you."

"If I get a scratch on it." G pocketed the keys and strode toward one of Hetty's prized possessions. "You drive." He mouthed.

Sam shook his head. "Where's a fountain when you need one?" He grinned.

They edged out the side door weapons drawn and readied. Sam crouched low in the bushes and came around to the opposite side of the car. G slinked around to the passenger's side. Sam wedged himself into the Jaguar E-Type XKE. It was not his height but his bulk that caused the most problem for him.

"Next time—"

"If there is one?"

"There better be, you are driving this car."

Finally situated and comfortable in the car, Sam breathed out a sigh of relief. "Now Hetty can rip me a new one." He took off down the driveway toward the street but stopped short of it scanning the road in both directions.

"Looking for—crap!"

"G!" Sam pressed the gas pedal clear to the floor and cut across all four lanes of the street barely missing several cars. He glanced at his partner. "G?"

"Just drive, damn it, drive." He shoved his right hand hard against his lower rib cage.

"You okay?"

"Stop asking me questions and get us there and out of here, fast."

"Do I need to make a detour for the hospital?"

"Don't you dare, keep going, man, don't stop, don't let them catch up to us." G panted and winced. The last thing he wanted to do was look at the wound a bullet made in his side. Yet it was a necessity. G needed to discover the damage it did to him. He lifted his hand and held back the string of profanities he wanted to spew out. It smarted bad, real bad. Not good. G pulled up his shirt and blood poured out of a deep gash in his side. _This is the last thing I need right now. The last thing._

"How's it looking?" Sam eyed him.

"Just pay attention to your driving."

"History repeating itself." He smirked.

"Not quite."

"What?" His right eyebrow raised upward.

"No Challenger." G opened his duffle bag and searched the contents for something he could use as a pressure bandage.

"Try mine, first aid kit."

He drew the duffle bag from the behind the seat onto his lap and almost passed out from the action. _Broken ribs. Great, no, not great._ G unzipped his partner's duffle bag and searched through it.

"Bottom left hand corner."

"That's exact."

"Navy SEALs."

"Yes, thought you were going to say that." He found the first aid kit right where his partner told him it was.

"What do you need?"

"Just drive, damn it, let me do this." G gritted his teeth, the pain had worsened two-fold. He located a bandage roll and pulled off a wad of the rolled gauze big enough to stuff inside the gaping hole in his side. Now he needed to deal with the pain of stuffing the rolled gauze into the wound. G took in a deep breath and released it slow emptying his lungs. He shoved the gauze into the gaping hole and stifled a scream.

"You okay?"

"Why?" G asked breathless close to passing out.

"White as a—"

"Quit it, damn it, I can't focus." He shoved it harder and grabbed the strips of tape he had cut. G plastered his side with strip after strip of tape securing the gauze in the hole. After he finished, G curled up on the seat and panted trying to lessen the waves of pain surging throughout his right side.

"You don't look good."

"How should I look after getting shot?"

"We're going to the hospital."

"No!"

"You better not die on me."

"Didn't happen the first time, and it's not going to happen this time." He tried to slow his breaths. "Just drive, Sam, come on, get us there."

"I'm doing 90 in a 60 mph zone, is that fast enough for you?"

"Did you lose our tail?"

"First thing."

"You mean you couldn't do it before I got shot?" G smirked.

"You and your wicked sense of humor." Sam took the next exit off the freeway and doubled back the way they came.

"Now you are driving in circles."

"Had to lose the tail and prevent them from finding the boat house."

"Smart man."

"Just keep your head down and rest."

"Thanks for the advice doctor." G chuckled even though it hurt like hell.

Sam pulled into the parking lot at the boat house and parked in front of the ramp. He rushed around to the passenger side of the car and helped his partner out of it. "Hetty is going to rip us a both a new one."

"I certainly am gentlemen, what in blazes… Mr. Callen—" Her jaw dropped when she saw his bloodied, sky blue t-shirt. "Get him inside."

Sam helped G into the building and laid him on the couch. "Don't move and I need to see that wound."

"Remember, you only play a doctor." G winced when his partner lifted his t-shirt.

"Lie back and let me look."

"I don't need a doctor."

"You do, Mr. Callen, let your partner take care of you."

"He's not a doctor."

"A nurse maid then." Sam chuckled.

"Damn, don't make me laugh, it hurts." G laid down on his left side.

"What the hell kind of bullet is in here?" Sam asked. "This is going to hurt bad."

"Great, I know what you are going to do, undo what I just fixed."

"It's got to be done, G, ready?" He yanked on the rolled gauze stuffed in the deep gash with tweezers pulling it completely out of the wound.

"Bastard!"

"Easy, man."

"Easy? That felt as if you stuck a red hot poker inside it." G tried to calm his breathing.

"One more nasty bit of pressure." Sam reached into the gash with the long tweezers and pulled out an odd piece of paper rolled up like a scroll.

G spied the paper scroll. "Give it to me."

"Like hell I will." He laid it on the coffee table out his partner's reach.

"It came out me and it belongs to—"

"Stuff it, man!"

Hetty brought over another first aid kit. Sam removed the betadine solution bottle from it.

G's eyes widened when he saw the label on it. "Don't put that crap on me it stings like hell."

"Here it comes." Sam poured it over the wound.

G gritted his teeth and clenched a pillow with both fists. "Do that again and I'll—"

"Once more." He covered the wound in the solution.

"Damn it, that's wicked," he said breathless. "Next time, I'll pour it all over your wound."

"That I've got to see," Sam said, "you are the one getting wounded all the time."

"Great, just great."

Hetty donned a pair of gloves and opened the scrolled paper. Her jaw dropped wide open. She fell into the chair next to the couch.

"Hetty, what is it?"

"They have your father, again."

"What?" G attempted to sit up and Sam pushed him back down on the couch. "Where?"

"NCIS Headquarters."

"Wait a minute, we checked the entire building and no one was there."

"They must've waited until we left," Sam said.

"What did I tell you?" G said. "They want me. I'm the bait, again, and they won't be satisfied until I'm in their custody."

"This time they'll follow through on their plans," Hetty said. "Do you have any idea what those are?"

_I do not want to even think about those plans._

"G?"

"I'm not ready to talk about that."

"We don't have much time," Hetty said. "We need to devise a counter stratagem to foil their plan."

"Impossible."

"Come on, G."

"No, I'm serious, there's nothing to combat their plan."

"Mr. Hanna, let us have the room."

* * *

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	13. Fingerprints

**Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Reviews appreciated and welcomed**

* * *

**Fingerprints**

**Chapter 13**

G loathed what his operations manager would ask next. Sam protected him long enough, and now it was time to reveal the truth to both of them. "I want him to stay."

"I thought you'd prefer to tell as few people as possible," Hetty said.

"You both need to know the Baboescu's plan."

"He's right." Sam settled back down on the couch next to his partner.

"Any painkiller around here?"

"I've got some in my purse." Hetty crossed the room and lifted her purse off a hook. She brought back a pill with a glass of water over to her lead agent.

"What is it?" G asked taking the small pill from her.

"Midol," she said with a straight face.

"Seriously?"

"Morphine."

"What are you doing with morphine in your purse?"

"Long story, take it or leave it."

G swallowed the small pill with the full glass of water. "Serghei needed my fingerprints for complete access to any database foreign or domestic."

"Foreign?" She wondered out loud. "Why didn't he use your father's fingerprints for that purpose?"

"My father removed his fingerprints."

Her jaw dropped.

"Years ago someone stalked him and sought his fingerprints," G said. "He assumed it was linked to this Romanian crime family."

"How many years ago, Mr. Callen?"

"Five."

"Quite an extreme solution."

"Not if someone's hunting you to obtain your fingerprints." _I cannot remember how many times in the last six months I came close to removing mine to protect myself from the Baboescu family and their devious scheme. _ The thought of losing his NCIS security clearance stopped G from following through on his extreme strategy.

"Why would anyone go to those extreme measures?" Sam asked.

G sighed. _Here it comes I can no longer withhold this information. _"They want to use my fingerprints to start a worldwide…" He yawned and wondered what was really in that pill.

"A worldwide what?" Hetty asked.

"Prostitution ring involving male escorts." There, he said it. He hoped his face showed no signs of his complete embarrassment over the situation.

"And they want you for this in some way?" she asked.

Damn. As usual his operations manager was too perceptive. "I'm the star of the show to put it succinctly."

"That's putting it succinctly."

"What really was in that pill?"

"A mild tranquilizer and a painkiller."

"Great, I don't need to be sedate, I need to be alert."

"With Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks protecting our perimeter and Mr. Beale and Ms. Jones delving into the Baboescu family's background and finances, you have nothing to worry about for the next hour while we determine our next strategy."

"Looks like you've been delegated to this couch," Sam said.

"I'll come back with Mr. Beale and he can pick your brain for more details."

"Why do I get the idea that no one cares anything about my well being and only cares about what's inside my brain?" G smirked.

"Take it as a compliment, G."

"Some compliment." He muttered to himself.

Sam left his partner and followed Hetty into the interrogation room.

"Anything new to report?" Hetty asked.

"I'll need Callen for the rest of the information before I can link into the mainframe at NCIS Headquarters." He picked up his laptop computer and strode toward the open area. "I hope you can answer some of my burning questions." Eric plopped down on the chair closest to Callen.

G yawned and stretched. "I would've done better had Hetty not drugged me."

"Excuses Mr. Callen, give Mr. Beale what he needs."

"I've discovered several offshore accounts but the balances in them don't add up to much," Eric said.

"Of course not, they're bogus accounts," G said. "A diversion to keep anyone from looking any deeper into the accounts they do have. Their most prized account is not a corporation or big business, well, maybe it's big business — Las Vegas and its seedy underground world."

"Never thought of looking there."

"Try anything linked to the prostitution of men and boys," G said, sighing. It was last thing he wanted to share, and yet he needed to reveal it. "It's their main focus." He closed his eyes hoping to signal Eric he was finished for now.

"I had no idea, Callen, I'm sorry." Eric strode back into the interrogation room.

Sam settled back down on the couch next to his partner. "You could've told me about this."

"No," G said without opening his eyes.

"You know I'd listen to whatever—"

His eyes flew open. "Stop, I can't talk about this any further."

"For now, but later we'll talk."

"Much later." He needed to create as much distance as possible between those execrable memories and himself. G held his aching side. So much for the little pill Hetty gave him earlier. It was wearing off already.

"Mr. Callen are you ready to steer the boat?"

"What?" The eyebrow of his right eye raised up.

"We need to know what to plant in the mainframe to get Alexandru's undivided attention."

"Give me a computer and I'll—"

"No, Mr. Beale?" Hetty raised her voice.

Eric came along side her with his laptop ready for his instructions.

"You are not replacing your father if that's what you had in mind."

"I thought about it."

"With your injury, G?"

He sighed. "Tell him I know where there are all the boys he wants, and someone will meet him at the Griffth Park Observatory."

"Is there a fountain there?" Sam asked.

"Sorry, Sam, no fountains." G smirked.

"That's three you owe me."

"Three fountains?" He eyed him. "A tall order. Where do you want me to deliver them?"

"What?" His eyebrows creased together.

Eric chuckled. "He's already gone for the bait."

"Me too," Sam said, chuckling. "I didn't even know it."

"Tell him midnight tonight and let him know someone will be there to exchange his prisoner for the men of his choice."

"You want me to tell him who's baiting him?"

"Nope," G said. "Now someone help me get off this couch I've got work to do, and I need a computer."

"Okay, what kind of boys are you sending him?" Sam asked.

"Strippers."

Hetty stepped into the middle of the conversation. "What in the world? Mr Callen!"

"He'll want something which entices him and male strippers will do the job."

Sam chuckled as he watched the interaction between Hetty and G.

"And with who's money?"

"I'll put out if you argue the point," G said. "I know what kind of _boys_ he likes, and I'll add a couple of male escorts to sweeten the deal."

"Mr. Callen, you'll do no such thing."

G took out a credit card and waved it in the air above his head. "Truce, I'm paying for the whole deal." Eric handed him a laptop computer and G ordered the services over the internet.

"Under which alias, Mr. Callen."

"Jason Tedrow."

"He's supposed to be in the dead file," Hetty said.

"Smart move, G."

"Thought so myself too." He grinned wide. "Yes, he's dead and ordering burn phones and escort services and male strippers. Lucky guy." G chuckled even though it hurt his side.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	14. Off Kilter

**Thanks for the reviews.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Reviews appreciated and welcomed**

**Off-Kilter**

**Chapter 14**

After Sam bandaged his side, G dressed in another shirt which he carried in his duffle bag. He learned years ago to always carry an extra change of clothes with him on an ops. G was curious about why Sam failed to find a bullet in his side. Obviously, his enemy wanted to send the message. His enemy needed him alive which meant the threats of earlier in the day were all lies. He felt an inkling of doubt in his mind. The exact way he felt on an ops that was not quite right. One where he detected something wrong but could not put his finger on the exact cause of it. It concerned him and yet he decided to keep the intel from his team at least for now.

He questioned himself in his mind, back and forth the conversation went. Something was off.

"G?"

He failed to notice the presence of his partner as he entered the room behind him. Not good. Sam was too perceptive.

"You okay?"

G flipped on his heels and gazed into his partner's eyes for a moment and averted his eyes.

"If something isn't right with all this we should just—"

"No, I mean yes, I don't know what I mean." He faced the interrogation room's window again and stared at the same thing he had looked at for the last hour; Eric and Nell working on the logistics for the their ops. Except before he was lost in his thoughts. Now he was tormented by those very thoughts that had captured his mind.

Sam stepped along side his partner and looked in the interrogation room window. "If anything doesn't feel right—"

"I know, I know… and something doesn't and yet…"

"Let's run it by Hetty first."

"Okay." G trudged up the stairs to the other interrogation room followed by Sam.

"Hetty, we need to talk."

G settled down in a chair facing her and Sam pulled up another one.

"Doubt, Mr. Callen?"

For the first time in his career, G had no answer.

"Mr. Hanna?"

"Something is off."

"Off?" She asked, glancing from one agent to the other.

"They should've killed me and they didn't. Instead, they shoot me with this device which leaves a message inside me. I thought that was odd."

"And, Mr. Callen?"

"Something is not right about this whole ops." He stood and walked over to the eye-level window and stared down into the parking lot. "One thought turns over and over in my mind—they want me."

"I agree, Mr. Callen, and that's why I wanted Mr. Deeks to pose as you."

"As we did in the Doppelgänger case."

"Yes."

"You're willing to risk his life."

"Unwilling to risk your life."

"I'm more valuable than Deeks?"

"It's not a—"

"It is, Hetty, and don't lie to me."

"Mr. Deeks volunteered to go as you already."

G's jaw dropped open.

"I want you two to hold back and go in as back up."

"And what if that's their plan?"

"Come on, G, now you _are_ getting paranoid."

"No, concerned that we're walking into the same situation as before and that's exactly what they want."

"Damned if we do, damned if we don't," Hetty said.

"Something like that," G said, facing her and his partner.

"Doubt is the last thing you need right now." She stood clasping her hands behind her back. "We'll go with Mr. Deeks in the front position. You know the routine by now, if you suspect something is awry you go in without hesitation." Hetty stepped closer to her lead agent and eyed him. "You do know I mean on the ops."

"I hoped you meant right now." He gave her a sheepish grin.

Sam chuckled. He loved watching their interactions and this one topped them all.

Hetty shook her head and smiled. "Go, gentlemen." She shooed them out of the interrogation room with both hands.

Downstairs, G and Sam grabbed their duffle bags and strode out to Hetty's Jaguar.

"Wish we had your Challenger."

"Agreed, but this car is faster and souped up for Hetty's love of speed."

"True."

They threw their duffle bags into the back seat and settled into their respective seats.

"No one is expendable, G."

"I'm not so sure any more."

"Trust me, Hetty's not throwing Deeks to the wolves."

"No, she isn't."

"I'm glad we agree on that one point."

"She's drowning him in the fountain," G said with a straight face.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. He revved the engine. "I should've known you'd bring that up again."

"I had it all planned with a nice fountain and now…"

"We have stars."

"What?" G glanced at him sideways.

"Stars at the observatory."

"I thought you meant the strippers and the escort service."

"Got you." He pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the Griffth Park Observatory.

G relaxed in his seat. "I'll admit, you had me going." In his mind, he readied himself for their ops. No rehearsing was needed. He often saw Kensi and Deeks perform mental gyrations inwardly and outwardly before an ops. G focused on the task ahead knowing his whole team depended upon his leadership. And yet that feeling rose again in his gut, the one telling him something was off. _Abort._ The word kept running through his mind again and again.

By the time Sam neared the observatory, G's gut was twisting and turning. He was close to vomiting, unusual for him. Something was not right. Nothing made him queasy about going on an ops. "Pull over, now!"

"What?" Sam glanced at his partner and pulled off to the side of winding road to the observatory. "You don't look—"

G opened the door and stumbled out of the car. He vomited along the side of road several times. "Abort the mission," he said between vomiting and heaving.

"What?"

"Abort it!"

Sam autodialed his team members and Hetty. "You'd better have a good—" A seizure gripped G's body and he fell to the ground. Sam rushed over to his partner's side and called 911. He removed his jacket and placed it under G's head. After the seizure stopped, his partner laid unconscious on the side of the road.

* * *

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	15. Poisoned

******Thanks for the reviews they are appreciated and welcomed.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Poisoned**

**Chapter 15**

After repositioning his partner in the hospital bed, Sam settled down in the chair next to G's bed again. Eight hours had passed and his partner still had not regained consciousness after his near fatal poisoning. G was right, something was off-kilter. The poison was timed to hit his partner at exactly the moment he met with Alexandru and his brother Bogdan. Except that for some reason the poison caused G to become ill with nausea. The nausea and vomiting saved his partner's life in more ways than one.

Hetty entered the intensive care unit suite and settled down next to Sam. "Any change?"

"No, still restless and unconscious," he said, " not a good combination."

"The doctors said it was an unknown poison," she said.

"I think this was his impending doom feeling."

"I concur."

G stirred again and moaned. For the first time in the last eight hours, he rolled to his side to face the voices he heard. He slowly opened his eyes and eyed them both. "Where am I?"

"ICU."

"What?" G attempted to sit up in bed.

Sam rushed over and pushed him back down. "You need to rest."

"The ops… Hetty, the ops."

"Everything went off without a hitch."

"I missed it."

"And thanks to you, I missed the strippers too," Sam said, chuckling and sitting back down again.

"My father?"

"Is safe and under 24/7 surveillance in a safe house until further notice."

"How did I get here?"

"You don't remember?" Sam asked.

"No, except one thing is different."

"And that is?"

"I no longer feel as if something bad is going to happen."

"It's called impending doom, Mr. Callen, and the reason you felt that way was they poisoned you."

His jaw dropped. "Poisoned me?"

"Yes, with an unknown substance," Hetty said. "The doctors are still trying to discover what it is."

"I almost died?"

"They administered it to you in such a way that it slowed down its reaction and caused you to become ill."

"Through the gun shot wound," G said out loud. Things had started to make sense now. "What about my fingerprints?"

"They called your burn phone and left a message wanting to meet with you, alone."

_Great, they want me dead to steal my fingerprints._

"You are under 24/7 security here at the hospital until you are well enough to function."

"Then what?"

"If you want to finish this, they're all yours."

"I need to… I hope you understand that, Hetty."

"I do, Mr. Callen," she said. "Get some more rest and I'll talk with your doctors." Hetty left the ICU suite.

"Poison, I never would've believed it," G said. "Remember Livia promised to poison me using the specialized weapon. She said it was botulinum. Only it didn't exist."

"That's the first thing the doctors checked for when you were admitted to the emergency department."

"Maybe their delivery was off, because I think they meant to kill me with this poison. Instead, it made me ill."

"I'm glad it didn't."

G closed his eyes. He flashed back to killing Serghei and then Livia. Something was still off kilter. He opened his eyes again. "I need you to check that weapon Livia threatened to use on me."

"What?" Sam's eyebrows raised high. "Evidence impounded last year."

"I know and it needs to be gone over again."

"Where are you going with this line of thought?"

"Something doesn't feel quite right."

"Yes, you almost died from being poisoned."

G sighed. "Okay, yes, true, and I need you to re-examine the weapon for clues."

"Better yet, I'll let you do it." Sam autodialed Hetty and informed her of the situation. "Right now you need to rest."

"Believe me, that's not a problem, I feel like crap."

"Now there's a first for you."

"Where's a fountain when you need one?"

"Someone promised to deliver three to my home later on this week," Sam said winking at his partner.

G chuckled and closed his eyes. The moment he started to drift off to sleep his mind zeroed in on the weapon from the Doppelgänger case a year ago. The state-of-the-art weapon failed to give up any clues before. _Why do I think it would now? Maybe I am grasping for clues, something to hang this on, when there is nothing to be found. _He still had the feeling something was off. _Maybe I am spooked from what happened. I am supposed to be the spook._ G sighed and allowed his exhausted body to take control of his senses and mind. Usually, he attempted to fight the inevitable, not this time.

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

G sat up in bed and examined the weapon for the second time. Nothing. He expected to find something. One last time he paid close attention to the cavities of the weapon which looked more as if it were a prototype squirt gun. Finally, he had an epiphany. This was not the weapon. Someone switched out the evidence. His gut told him the truth. "Sam, can you check this weapon for fingerprints?"

"It was—"

"No, now."

"Come on, G, seriously?"

"Yes, I'm playing a hunch."

"LAPD had it in their evidence—"

"I know, Sam, stop trying to defend them."

"What?"

"Something is off and I know it and this time I'm paying attention to whatever that is."

"I suppose you want me to push you in a wheelchair over to LAPD so you can examine all the evidence we found at the scene."

"That would be nice if you could." G kept a straight face.

Sam shook his head. "Glad someone is feeling better."

"But I'm not quite feeling good enough for excursions outside the hospital."

He chuckled. "That's a first."

"You try getting poisoned."

"No thanks." Sam smirked. "I'll pass."

"Very funny." He handed the weapon back to his partner and scooted back down in bed pulling the covers over his shoulders. "Still no word on the exact poison they used?"

"Nothing new," he said. "They sent your blood over to a specialized laboratory to determine the poison."

"A new bio-weapon?"

"Possibly, but don't jump to conclusions."

"I'm not, just wondering." He wondered too why the prototype weapon looked different from the one he remembered Livia held at her side over a year ago. Maybe the poison in his body caused his mind to play tricks on him. G was determined this time to follow through with his hunches. "Is my father under protection from LAPD?"

"Yes, why?"

"Change it to NCIS."

"What?"

"Just do it, Sam, don't argue with me, I'm playing a hunch."

"I suppose you want me to change your protective detail to NCIS too?"

"Definitely."

"You mind telling me where this is going?"

"After I get the results back from the fingerprints on that prototype," he said. "And can you make sure you watch them while they do that?"

"What now, you don't trust the LAPD?"

"Something like that." G sighed and relaxed into the pillow. He pulled the oxygen mask over his face again. Whatever the poison was, it zapped his energy fast and the oxygen helped restore his strength.

* * *

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	16. Tamperer

******Thanks for the reviews they are appreciated and welcomed.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Tamperer**

**Chapter 16**

His mind played tricks on him at times but only when he was under great duress. He wondered if this was one of those times. More than once during the middle of night, G sensed a presence in the room with him. Even though he was under protective detail someone had breached his ICU hospital room and stood next to his bed looming over him. He shuddered with the memory of his intruder. They rifled through his belongings several times searching for some item. G wondered if the intruder had been Bogdan or Sorina. Either one now wanted him dead. _Why did they not just kill me? _

The door opened to his unit and he startled and sat up in bed.

"Easy, G."

"Gun shy."

"Got some strange news about the prototype weapon," Sam said, settling down on a chair beside his partner's bed. "Deeks watched them as they dusted for fingerprints."

"And?"

"Nothing, they found absolutely no fingerprints on it."

"That's… impossible."

"I know because there would be at least the residue from before."

"Wiped clean." G's thoughts zeroed in on only one person who could leave no fingerprints. He cringed. _I do not like where this is going at all._

"I decided to retrieve the surveillance videos from the evidence locker for the last year."

"And?"

"Eric and Nell are still combing over them."

_And I know what they will find._

"I made a decision you are not going to like."

"Why do you say that?"

"I left the LAPD detail on you last night."

G straightened further in bed. "You put my life in jeopardy‽ And for what purpose? Do you realize what was going on in here last—"

Sam held up his hands. "Easy, G, slow down."

"You want to use me as your damned experiment for these…" He released a shaky sigh. "This family."

"You weren't in any danger."

"Really?" G leered at him.

"I used surveillance and videotaped the entire—"

"Screw you!" He crossed his arms and shot his partner another look.

"I was right next door."

"And if the person used a knife on me or shot me up with a drug you could've stopped them?"

"Yes."

G sighed again this time releasing a loud huff.

"After the evidence was tampered with at LAPD, I wanted to discover if your hunches were right."

"And I suppose you left my father in harm's way too?"

"G, damn it, I didn't do that, I only did it with you because I could be close by."

"And what about Hetty's say in all this?"

"She encouraged me to follow through with my gut feeling about his."

"Great, she encouraged you to use me as a guinea pig in your experiment," G said. "Why don't you just leave? Huh? Get out."

"Come on, man."

Hetty entered the ICU suite. "Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?"

"Never mind." G faced the window and refused to acknowledge her presence with even a look in her direction.

"I approved of Mr. Hanna's surveillance of the LAPD's protective detail."

He stared out the window. "Thanks a lot."

"We needed to see who is behind the evidence tampering."

It was obvious to him who was behind it. G wondered why his team failed to see it right off. "What about the digital tapes from LAPD's evidence locker?"

"Just a moment." Hetty faced the window and removed the vibrating cell phone from her pocket and glanced at the number on it. She answered the phone. "Yes, I see, not good, thank you Mr. Beale." Hetty pocketed her phone and faced her two agents again. "The results are in from the surveillance on the evidence locker."

"You don't need to tell me what you've discovered," G said, facing his operations manager for the first time since she had entered his ICU suite. "I figured it out already and I was surprised you didn't. My father, right?"

Sam's eyebrows raised high. "What?"

"Yes, Mr. Callen." She eyed him.

"It was easy, no fingerprints and he wiped the prototype clean to insure there would be no telltale signs of his tampering with the evidence."

"Anything else you care to share?"

"I'm sure he switched out the prototype weapon too."

"Yes, he did," Hetty said. "Do you mind telling me why he would do any of this?"

"Your guess is a good as mine."

"I want your father down here for questioning ASAP."

"You'd be exposing him to that family and their plans for him."

"As far as I can tell, Mr. Callen, there are no plans for him," she said. "They want you or your fingerprints."

G sighed extra loud this time. "As long as you assure me he'll be protected at all costs."

"I will," Hetty said turning to leave.

Sam eyed his partner before speaking. "What are you not telling us?"

"Nothing." He stared out the window again.

"I hope for your sake—"

"You think I'd withhold information from you and our team?"

"I hope not."

G was mystified by his father's actions. Not only had he stolen one of the fingerprinting devices, now he had switched the prototype weapons. If Hetty allowed him to do it, all he wanted to do now was question his father.

* * *

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	17. Losing It

**Thanks for the reviews they are appreciated and welcomed.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Losing It**

**Chapter 17**

"Come on, G, get back into bed." Sam blocked his partner's exit from the ICU suite. "You're not ready for this."

"Get out of my way." He yelled with slurred speech, pushing hard against his partner's chest and beating on his chest with a fist while holding Sam's gun in the other hand.

Sam grabbed both of G's arms and held them away from his body. "Something is not right with you."

"Yes, I should've kill them all the first chance I got."

"What are you talking about, kill who?"

"Them, you idiot!"

"Do you see the way you're dressed?"

"Do I care?"

"Your ass is hanging out the back side of your gown, and here you are with a gun in your hand ready to get whomever."

G glanced at how he was dressed for a moment.

Sam wrestled G into a scissors lock, released his hands, and took out his cell phone. He autodialed Hetty's number.

"Give me that damned phone!" G grabbed the phone from his partner and threw it across the room.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" This time he wrestled his partner into choke hold and brought him over to the bed. "You need to settle down."

"Release me!" The moment Sam released him, G sprung off the bed and rushed to the door.

Sam grabbed him from behind again and wrestled him away from the door. He yelled. "I need some help in here."

"Get off me!"

"Would be appropriate and possible if I was sitting on you," Sam said, settling down on the bed with his partner on his lap.

"What?" G glanced over his shoulder. "I'm not… get off me."

"I'm not on you."

"You are." He yelled at him.

"G, you're not thinking straight, okay, maybe you _were_ drugged."

"Bull shit!" He watched as several nurses and a doctor came into the ICU suite.

"I think he's been drugged." Sam released his partner and wrestled the gun away from him.

"Give that back to me, bastard!"

"Easy, man, listen to yourself." G lunged for the gun in his partner's hand. Sam wrestled his partner into another choke hold. "See what I mean?"

"I do," the doctor said, "keep him right where you are. Let's get a series of blood tests drawn to determine the drugs he was given." He turned and whispered to the nurse to his left. The two nurses left and the doctor stayed in the suite.

"What are you plotting to do to me?"

"Plotting? Come on, G, this is your doctor."

He squirmed and pushed backward trying to extricate himself from his partner. "He's not, man, he's going to drug me, let me go."

"Okay, paranoia is a factor."

"I'm not paranoid. I'm not crazy. Damn it, Sam, you've got to do something. We've got to kill them all before they kill us." He stiffened his body and clenched his hands around his partner's arms trying to break free from him.

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"The Comescues."

"G, you killed off their whole family."

"What?" His jaw dropped.

"Remember, you and I together took them down in Romania," he said. "And then you took out Dracul in Hawaii."

"No! Liar! You're lying to me." G beat on his partner's arms with both fists. "Stop this and let me go."

"I'd never lie to you about something this serious, man."

"Bring him over here to the window seat."

Sam settled down on the bench seat which doubled as a single bed.

Two orderlies took over for Sam wrestling G to the window seat face first and positioned an arm for a nurse to draw blood.

"Get your damned hands off me." He yelled and pushed backward trying to free himself from the two men. "But you'd lie to me about something less serious. They're going to drug me, please help me, Sam, please."

"You know what I meant, G," he said. "Easy, man, just let them do their job."

"Their job is to drug me and keep me incapacitated so I can't do my job," G said breathless from his struggling. "I need to take out the Comescues. Help me, Sam, you've got to help me." He watched a nurse come closer to him with a filled syringe. "Sam! Don't let them do this. I'm begging you, please don't let them do this." G cringed when the medicine was injected into the same intravenous port where the blood was drawn. "No, they're drugging me to shut me up and take away my identity."

"Easy, just relax and let that medicine work."

"You want to let them do it to me," G said with slurred speech.

"You're not making any sense."

"You don't care, you never cared, this was all that it was ever about."

Hetty rushed into the ICU suite, her jaw dropping wide open. "What in blazes is—"

G raised his head. "Hetty, please don't let them do this to me, you need to stop this," he said. "I need to find them and kill them." G lowered his head to the bench seat unable to keep his eyes focused on his operations manager.

"Who, Mr. Callen, who do you need to find?"

"The Comescues." His eyes fluttered and closed, and he slumped forward relaxing under the tranquilizer's influence.

Her jaw dropped open again.

The two orderlies lifted their patient off the bench seat and brought him over to the hospital bed tucking him under a sheet and blanket. "Anything else?" One of them asked the doctor.

"No, that's all, thank you." He watched them both leave and turned his attention back to his patient.

"What happened?" Hetty asked settling down on the bench seat still shocked by what she had witnessed.

"I've drawn three toxin screens in hopes of discovering what caused the odd symptoms," the doctor said.

"Mr. Hanna?"

"He just came unglued and started ranting about killing the Comescues."

"Just like that?"

"We were talking about his father coming here and he lost it."

"Your gun." She eyed the weapon in her agent's hand.

"Yes, we struggled and he grabbed it out of my holster."

"I hope we discover what happened here."

"Maybe the surveillance wasn't a good idea," Sam said, wondering out loud if his partner had been drugged during the night. G had raised that concern and he brushed off his partner citing his paranoia about the Baboescues again. "I need to watch those surveillance recordings again. Maybe we missed something."

* * *

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	18. Drugged

******Thanks for the reviews, they are appreciated and welcomed.**

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Drugged**

**Chapter 18**

G stretched trying to get the kinks out of neck from the odd position he had slept in after being drugged and restrained. Sam strolled into his partner's ICU suite. A deep line creased in G's forehead. He sighed. This was going to be a long night, one he was not looking forward to hashing out with his partner. "I want to know why I was restrained and medicated."

Sam walked over to the window and stared at the dark clouds of an impending storm. "Long story."

"Make it short." He folded his arms. "And fast."

He flipped on his heels and faced his partner. "You're right, your intruder drugged you."

G jaw dropped open.

"You've every right to complain and be angry with me."

"You're damned right I do." It was like he told his partner. "What kind of drugs?"

"Slow acting, powerful, designer hallucinogens."

"In English, Sam."

"That's what the laboratory knows at this point," he said. "Your symptoms were similar to temporary insanity."

"I don't remember what I said or did."

Sam faced the window again. "You got my weapon, threatened me with it, and ranted and raved about how you were going to kill the Comescues."

"The Comescu family is dead, we killed them together."

"I know that but you didn't know that earlier today."

G wondered if it was the same drug Serghei had administered to him prior to the rape. He remembered back to that moment of the rape. Time stood still. Serghei pounced on him forcing G onto his back. He disconnected from his rapist's assault and something occurred which he only now figured was due to a drug. Everyone has lied at some point in their life. G lied to be a better undercover agent. And he lied to his partner about how he killed Serghei.

"G?"

He glanced at his partner standing at the window.

"You zone out on me again?"

"No, thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself," Sam said with a straight face. He settled down on the window seat. "The other part of this equation. You weren't poisoned as the doctors once thought."

"I know, I was drugged," G said, sliding further down in the bed and signaling his partner he had enough talking for now.

"Tired?"

_He does not need to know what I went through. _"Kind of." _Another lie in a long list of them. _

"You need to talk about this with someone."

"What?"

"Whatever is bugging you."

G pulled the covers up to his chin and rolled over to face the closet and sink.

"I get the message, and I'll relay it to Hetty."

"What?" He sat straight up in bed, staring at his partner.

"You're avoiding and she's asking."

"Crap, I don't need both of you breathing down the back of my neck over this."

"Over what?"

"Enough!" He laid on his side again, facing away from his partner.

Hetty strolled into the room. "Gentlemen." She nodded at Sam. "The room, please."

"I was just about ready to leave." He sighed. "Last chance for us to talk alone."

G stared at the metal nightstand.

Hetty watched her agent leave the room and settled down in the chair by the bed. "As much as I would like to keep you off the case, Mr. Callen, I need you."

He kept his eyes averted.

"Your anger is justified."

"So."

"We have a problem," she said, sighing. "Your behavior was unwarranted for the situation."

"Meaning."

"The doctors agreed with me." Hetty stood and smoothed hands down the sides of her ivory suit jacket. "You've unresolved issues from your captivity."

"So that's why you're here."

"And I need you on this case."

"The catch?" He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, crossing his arms.

"You're 100% on this case, and afterwards you take a leave of absence to deal with what happened."

"I get it."

"And?"

"What if—"

"We're not going to worry about that right now."

G faced the window. "I hope you know I can't control that."

"Anger is a powerful emotion and when used in the proper context it can be a powerful weapon," Hetty said, now standing at the foot of her lead agent's bed.

"You don't expect me to—"

"No," she said, her face twisted into a partial frown. Hetty turned to face the door and stopped, glancing back over her right shoulder. "Get dressed, Mr. Callen, I need you." Hetty left.

Sam reentered the hospital suite and laid a set of clothes on the bed and exited the room.

G stared at the clothes, a dress suit in dark teal blue with a light teal blue, dress shirt, more than likely one of Hetty's prized possessions and one he needed to tell her if he got a speck of blood on it, and he wondered what type of clandestine assignment his operations manager had prepared for him. After only a moment, G dressed in the clothes his partner had brought into the room, while thinking about how to keep his emotions in check during this ops.

* * *

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	19. Compromise

**Thanks for the reviews, they are appreciated and welcomed.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Compromise**

**Chapter 19**

"Papa, why did you do this?" G asked while standing by the table.

George Callen slumped into a chair outside the interrogation room at the boat house. He sighed deep. "I did it for you, son."

"What?"

"If I didn't tamper with the evidence and steal that prototype weapon, you'd be dead not to mention scores of people."

"What are you talking about? Why won't you look at me? Damn it, look at me!"

George faced his son tears welling up in his eyes.

"Papa."

"The weapon does work. It is designed to disperse botulinum."

G's jaw dropped. "NCIS and LAPD examined it and found no evidence that it even worked."

"That's because someone inside the LAPD was dirty."

"Yes, we knew that at the time."

"They tampered with the evidence and altered it to steer NCIS away from the truth," he said. "I was in the states at the time, investigating your situation."

"And you didn't even stop in to say hi."

"Business trip."

"More like a trip to save my ass… sets."

"Yes." He stood, crossed the short distance, and hugged his son. "I wish we could have met sooner, but I had to protect you from them."

"Is this another blood feud?"

"No, it's one family's blind and warped ambition to destroy lives," he said, stepping back. "I had to stop them."

"And how do we stop them now?"

George faced the interrogation room's window, this time walking toward it and placing his hands on the window sill. "Only one way to stop this and you know it."

"I can't just go around murdering whole families."

"Then you'll have to arrest them and make it stick."

G sighed. "Because if I don't they'll come after me again."

Hetty entered the open area. "Gentlemen, perhaps there's a better idea."

"What do you have in mind?" George asked.

"The reason for your son's attire is the special ops I've arranged for him."

"I had wondered why you'd send him out on an ops in that suit."

"Wonder no more," Hetty said, gesturing with her hands for both men to follow her. They entered the interrogation room. "Mr. Callen, you'll need to study the intel Mr. Beale has gathered for you."

* * *

**NCIS:LA NCIS:LA NCIS:LA**

* * *

G climbed out of the Challenger and slouched against the front fender of Sam's car down the street from a Romanian restaurant in Hollywood. He sighed for at least the fifth time since Sam and him had started their ops.

Sam rested against the front fender closer than usual to his partner. "Problems."

"I'm still thinking about what I did to Serghei."

"And waiting for the axe to fall," he said, "when you see their family."

"Something like that."

"I heard they have a fountain in one of their private rooms."

"And you'd like to dunk my head in it afterward."

"Thought about it."

G chuckled. "Thanks for the stress reliever." The thought of his partner dunking his head in a fountain was what he needed to get his mind off the seriousness of the ops. He straightened and squared his shoulders.

"Now there's the consummate undercover ops agent I know," Sam said, handing over the briefcase to his partner.

"Okay, how did you know?"

"Simple." He faced him. "You ready yourself by squaring your shoulders." Sam straightened his partner's tie.

G allowed his partner one last touch to his expensive suit. "I guess you'd notice something like that since we've worked together all this time."

"I noticed it the first time we worked together, and you went undercover wearing one of Hetty's over-the-top suits."

He glanced at his suit and shirt and shoes. "Yes, this qualifies as over-the-top."

"Go get 'em partner." Sam stepped back and motioned toward the door down the street.

G strode toward his destiny filled with confidence. He figured the outcome of this meeting would result in an angrier Baboescu family. This family wanted only two things from G now, his fingerprints copied and his life terminated. He was determined to perform his part of the ops no matter what the outcome.

After switching the briefcase to his left hand, G opened the restaurant's door and stepped inside the darkened foyer, waiting while his eyes adjusted to the extreme difference in light. Compared to the bright noon day sunlight the foyer was likened to a cavern deep within a mountain.

"Agent G. Callen, come in and have a seat," Alexandru said, leading the way further into the restaurant.

No seats were occupied in the front of the restaurant. They neared a private room, the ones which Eric had shown him of the building's schematics, and G noted the remainder of the Baboescu family seated along the opposite side a long, light oak stained table in the room's center. He stopped short inside the doorway and steeled himself again, before taking a seat at the table.

"Water, wine, or woe?" Alexandru asked with a thick Romanian accent unfettered by years of living outside his mother country.

"Nothing, thanks." G laid the briefcase on the table and opened it, pulling out one file. "I'm prepared to offer one way out and only one way out."

"Unacceptable." He sat across from the killer of his brother and sister.

"That's all I have to offer."

"I won't sign any legal document with those terms."

G started to stand.

Alexandru motioned him with a hand to sit down. "Present your offer."

He settled in his chair, the left corner of his mouth creasing upward. One hurdle down, two to go. "First and foremost, you'll file no lawsuit against me for the damages to your family." Marty had given G several quick lessons on the delivery of legal speak.

"Unacceptable." Alexandru's voice raised a decibel. "You expect me to sign this ridiculous document which states—"

"I don't expect anything," he said, "our legal department does."

"What?" His jaw dropped open.

"This isn't about me."

"You just asked us to cease and desist all legal actions against you."

"Yes, that's in accordance with our legal department."

"What kind of crap is this!"

"I assure you this all legal and above—"

"You listen to me and you listen carefully," Alexandru said, his accent deepening and his voice lowering. "I own your ass."

"Not quite, your brother owned my ass, and he's no longer around to claim it." G smirked, both corners of his mouth turning upward. It was one line which had excited him about presenting the whole deal.

Alexandru pounded the table and shot out of his chair.

Bogdan grabbed his brother's arm. "Don't do something you'll regret."

Alexandru jerked away from his brother. "That's right, bastard, you murdered our brother and you're going to pay for it one way or another."

G slowly rose from his seat, gathered the file, and placed it back into the briefcase. "I guess we're done here."

"No one gave you permission to leave this restaurant."

"I gave myself permission."

"Stop," Alexandru said, holding up his hands. "Okay. Tell me the rest."

G stopped halfway to the doorway and glanced over his right shoulder. "You don't want to hear it unless it paves a path to your door."

"Please sit down and let's discuss this… like gentlemen." Alexandru demonstrated his willingness first, by sitting and clasping his hands together. "Let's talk."

After placing the briefcase on the table again, G settled into a chair opposite Livia and Serghei's brother. More composed than usual, he opened the briefcase and pulled out the agreement once again. "It's a legal document which states you'll cease and desist all actions against my father and me, whether domestic or foreign."

"You can't hold me to any foreign legal actions."

"Not so," G said, "we've contacted the authorities in Romania and informed them of your illegal activities here in the United States."

"You did what‽"

"They informed us of your illegal activities in Romanian and agreed to prosecute you to the full extent of the law." G watched Alexandru struggle to stay seated. The corners of his mouth turned upward, seeing the pure rage on the man's face.

"I'm not signing this preposterous legal document!"

He gathered the file again and lifted it off the table. "I'll inform Immigration and Customs Enforcement of your decision." G observed his adversary for a moment. He placed the file in the briefcase again and started to close it.

"And they'll?"

"Arrest you and deport you and your family back to Romania."

"They can't."

"They can and they will," G said, "your visas expired last week."

"We applied for new ones."

"They've held them back upon our request."

Alexandru tightened his hands, the veins bulging outward on them. "What about our side of the deal?"

"What about it?"

"How do I know you won't finish off our whole family?"

"If you sign this deal, I'll have no reason to come after anyone else."

"That simple."

"Yes." G realized it was not that simple. This was the Baboescu family from Romania and they wanted his fingerprints, and his dead body laid bare on their front doorstep. The whole deal sounded more like the Comescu family, except this family lived in the United States while delving into their criminal acts.

"Where do I sign this… document?" Alexandru asked, ending with a dark tone.

G pulled the file out of the briefcase, he hoped for the last time, and placed it before his adversary.

"Give me a minute to read this."

"I'll give you two minutes." He relaxed in his chair, knowing he had twisted his enemy's arm into signing the legal document.

"Everything looks above board." Alexandru grasped the pen which G had given him and started to sign the document.

"Alex, you sure?" Bogdan asked.

"Certain." He finished signing the document and passed the pen and paper back to G.

G rolled the pen off the document without touching it. He placed the document into the folder and laid it in his brief case. With a partially gloved hand, G picked up the pen and situated it in its carrying case inside the briefcase. He removed the glove and closed his briefcase. "Gentlemen," G said, standing and grasping his briefcase, "the pleasure was all mine." He smirked knowing he had gathered more than a signature.

* * *

**Thanks for reading my story. More to come soon...**


	20. No Prisoners

**Thank you for the reviews, they are appreciated and welcomed.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**No Prisoners**

**Chapter 20**

G terminated his cell phone conversation with Hetty and turned to his partner. "This is not exactly how I imagined spending the last hours of my life."

"What, the glass is half empty?"

"And for you it's half full." He released a long sigh.

"Look at it this way, they signed that document."

"Alexandru signed the document and the rest can do as they please."

"They'll all come after you."

"Great." G checked his weapons again, making certain they were loaded and ready.

"That's three times."

"And your point is."

"I think they're ready for action," Sam said. "Kensi and Deeks are in position."

"And you believe they're coming here, to my house."

"I'll bank on it."

"You know you missed your opportunity."

Sam glanced at him sideways.

"The fountain." G had noticed it in the corner: Perfect size and type for the payback he owed his partner.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "there's a guy delivering three fountains to my house some time this week." Sam smirked.

G chuckled.

A car backfired and Sam and G grabbed their assault rifles and hit the floor.

"And I thought I was a little edgy," G said, facing his partner who laid next to him on the hardwood floor.

"Trying to protect your ass is a hair raising job."

"What hair?" G chuckled. "You think they'll wait until tonight."

"Nope," Sam said, "guess you never heard of the saying, strike while the iron is hot."

"That's a little cliche even for you." G remembered the bargaining table and his adversary's bulging veins in his neck and hands. "I must admit though I pissed off Alexandru."

"A little?"

"Okay, the guy's going kill me and that's all he's going to think about until—" A bullet whizzed past him within inches of his head. "Incoming!" G aimed his assault rifle in the direction of the shot fired and released several rounds. "There goes my front window again."

"A job for Hetty." Sam joined his partner, firing off more rounds in the same direction.

G's cell phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. A text message informed him about the enemy's number and how many had been erased. "Deeks says he nailed Bogdan in the backyard."

"One down and many more to go."

"Kensi wounded Sorina and she's still alive."

"I hope not for long," Sam said, "we take no prisoners." He fired off more bullets.

"Kensi reported her death."

"Good, and Alexandru?"

"Right here you bastard!" He stood over G's prone form, a gun aimed at his head.

Sam trained his gun on Alexandru's head. "You shoot and I shoot."

"You've got to ask yourself one question," he said with a thick Romanian accent.

"Who's faster."

G twisted hard to the right, catching Alexandru off guard. His adversary tumbled to hardwood floor, his weapon firing off two rounds. "Crap!" G grabbed his left side and panted. "Bastard." He pulled out his SIG-Sauer P229 and fired off two rounds at his enemy's chest.

Alexandru dodged one of the rounds by tumbling toward his assailant. The other hit him in the left shoulder. "I'll kill you." He grabbed the muzzle on G's weapon, pulling the man toward him.

Wounded and panting from the searing pain in his left side, G released his hold on the weapon and pounced on his adversary, punching Alexandru in the left shoulder where the bullet had pierced and broken the skin.

Alexandru wailed and screamed at G. "You're a deadman!" He turned the weapon on his assailant and cocked the trigger.

"No one touches my son like that!" George Callen fired off two bullets, one hitting the man in the right shoulder and the second one missing him. It zinged past him, ending up in a wall on the far side of the living room.

G grabbed his assault rifle and aimed it at Alexandru. "Drop the weapon."

"Go screw yourself."

"It's you who's screwed if I fire this weapon at close range."

Alexandru opened his jacket, exposing a strange contraption attached to his chest. "No, it's you who's screwed, all of you."

"What the hell is that?" G asked.

"The experimental weapon," George said, "he's replicated another one. I was mistaken and thought the rest had been dismantled."

"Thanks to Agent G Callen's partial print we lifted off the table at the restaurant, we purchased enough materials to manufacture two more weapons."

"Botulinum?" Sam asked.

"It's enough to kill everyone in Studio City and then some."

"I acquired your fingerprints too."

Alexandru's jaw dropped. "Impossible, you're lying."

"Are you certain?"

"How?"

"The pen you used to sign the document."

"Bastard."

"That I am." G held up his cell phone and showed the prints to his adversary. "You release that toxin and I'll press this button."

"So."

"Your prints go viral in Romania."

"What the hell?"

"Everyone who dealt with your family in Romania starts hunting them down and killing them off."

"You're a liar."

"Don't believe me, release the toxin and discover the genocide of your extended family," G said. "I take it you've been inoculated against the toxin."

"But of course."

"Your choice, and I suggest you choose wisely." G held his thumb over the button, waiting for his adversary's answer.

"And you?" Alexandru asked.

"What do you think?" He remembered back to the time Sam injected him with the antidote, talk about wanting to kill someone. G hated needles and that one saved his life.

Alexandru dropped G's weapon and kneeled on the hardwood floor, giving up on his assault.

George and Sam disarmed their adversary and the biological weapon strapped to the man's chest. Sam handcuffed Alexandru. G climbed to his feet and took his weapon from his father's hand.

"Come on, G, don't do this."

"Remember what we decided on this ops, no prisoners," he said, pointing his SIG-Sauer P229 at Alexandru's head. "You know he'll just start this all over again."

"He's arrested and—"

G whirled around and faced his partner. "No!" He turned back to his adversary and flashed back to Serghei raping him. "You don't understand and I do."

Sam came along side his partner and lowered his voice. "You told me what happened."

"And it haunts me."

"It's over G."

"Not for me, it'll never be over." He cocked the trigger on his weapon and pointed the muzzle at the back of Alexandru's head. "No prisoners."

"He's under arrest and—"

G fired off two rounds, hitting Alexandru in the back of the head twice. The man fell face first on the hardwood floor. G replaced the safety on his weapon and handed it to his partner. "Arrest me if you want," he said, walking to the bathroom. In the mirror, G raised his shirt and examined the two places where he had been shot. Only one of them looked deep enough to need attention. The bullet had grazed the skin on the other wound, leaving a bright red, raised welt. At least both bullets missed the first bullet wound.

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**Thanks for reading my story. More to come soon…**


	21. Extirpation

**I hope you enjoy this last chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews, they are appreciated and welcomed.**

* * *

**Title: Nowhere Man**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: Non-consensual sex, rape. G/OCs**

** Story Details and Full Disclaimer in Chapter 1: **_My stories are a work of __**my**__ imagination and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon__. _This is a work intended for entertainment _outside the official storyline_ owned by CBS and the producers of NCIS:LA.

* * *

**Extirpation**

**Chapter 21**

G entered the OPS Center followed by his father and Sam. Kensi and Deeks stood side by side, resting against the light table.

"Now this is a first," Eric said, eyeing Callen's father and keeping his voice lowered.

"Approved of by Hetty," G said, shooting his technician a look.

Eric swallowed hard and faced the high definition screen, bringing up the current intel on their two ops.

Hetty entered the room and stopped before her lead agent. "Shouldn't you be resting, Mr. Callen?"

"My doctor," G said, stopping to glance at his partner, "told me I was fine for this debriefing."

"Your doctor?" She turned to face her second lead agent. "I see, Mr. Callen. Later, I'll need an update from your doctor." Hetty smirked and flipped on her heels, now facing the high definition screen. "Mr. Beale, please bring up the latest intel I just downloaded onto your computer."

Eric faced her. "The latest?"

"Yes, check your computer files."

He rushed over to his computer and pulled up a file with his operations manager's name on it. Eric double clicked the file and it uploaded to the screen.

"No loose ends on this case, Mr. Callen," Hetty said. "Good job. Alexandru and Serghei's fingerprints went viral in Romania within minutes after you killed Alexandru. Your take no prisoners stance was a decisive factor to extirpate the Baboescu family and their worldwide holdings.

"Further, the document Alexandru signed was sent to Romania and ICE along with fingerprints of his family members who operated here in the United States.

"The vest Alexandru wore was confirmed to contain botulinum and to be detonated upon pushing a lever on the side of the unit."

"And the traitor at the LAPD?" G asked.

"Arrested hours ago." Hetty motioned toward the screen.

He watched a man being arrested by Marty Deeks while inside the main LAPD Headquarters. "I missed out on all the fun."

"Glad you weren't there, G."

"You're saying I'm trigger happy."

"Yes." Sam smirked.

G chuckled.

"Just saying, you would've like to shoot him."

"Remember, I take no prisoners." He smirked.

"Gentlemen." She cleared her throat.

Sam and G stifled the smirks on their faces by placing a hand over their own mouths.

Hetty shook her head and faced the screen again. "Roll it Eric."

A video showed the rounding up of the extended Baboescu family by community members. Each family member was executed with a gun or a knife. No one was spared.

G lowered his voice and turned toward his partner. "And you thought I was angry."

Hetty cleared her throat again. "The arrested LAPD officer was a Baboescu family member."

"And he's a prisoner?" G asked, knowing what he would have done with the man.

"If you're worried about his well being, Mr. Callen—"

"No prisoners."

"I'm well aware of your concern."

"You don't know the half of it."

She flipped on her heels, getting in her lead agent's face. "Mr. Callen, you're telling me how to do my job."

He swallowed hard. "No."

"Good." She faced the screen again. "The rest Mr. Beale, quickly before Mr. Callen blows a fuse." Hetty chuckled.

On the screen, G watched the arrested LAPD officer boarding a flight to Romania with four ICE agents. Next he saw the officer and the agents leave the plane and turn the prisoner over to the immigrations and custom agents in Romania.

"I suppose he'll rot in prison for a long time."

"You suppose wrong, Mr. Callen."

G watched the Romanian agents take the officer into a private room where they disposed of the man with one shot to his head. "And you thought I had anger issues," he said. "At least, I'd let the man give his sob story. I'd hear him out."

"For how long, G, before you executed him on the spot?"

"At least one word."

"Generous." Sam smirked.

"I try to be." G chuckled.

Hetty cleared her throat again. "Your fingerprints, Mr. Callen, were registered and used under Jason Tedrow."

"About Jason—"

"Mr. Callen, let me finish," she said. "He's been officially retired for life."

"If so, you might need this." G pulled a credit card out of his wallet.

"I was looking for that in the box." Hetty shot him a look, admonishing her lead agent. "I suppose you used this card to order the escort service and strippers for the Baboescu family."

A sheepish grin spread across his face.

Hetty shook her head. "I expect full compensation for your deeds."

"Already done."

"Where?"

"On your desk before I came up here."

"Thank you for not making me hound you for the money." Hetty faced the screen again. "Only more loose end."

"What did I miss?"

"What to do about your father and what he's seen of our operation?"

"Hire him as an agent."

"Believe me I thought about that option," Hetty said. "However, after a discussion with your father, he declined the offer."

G eyed his father. "Why Papa?"

"After saving your butt the other day, I was an emotional wreck." George Callen folded his arms.

"You serious."

"Absolutely, son."

"I hoped we could work side by side."

"Not my, pardon the pun, Ms. Lange, not my cup of tea."

G glanced at Hetty. "You two talked over tea and didn't include me in the—"

"Mr. Callen, your father's decision came as a complete surprise to me," she said. "I fully expected him to accept my proposal."

G glanced back at his father.

"You'll get whiplash if you keep that up, G."

He shot his partner a look. "I wanted to be there for the occasion."

"Your 'doctor' was attending to your wounds."

G crossed his arms and sighed. "I don't have a doctor."

"I'm hurt and offended that you wouldn't consider me your—"

He waved a hand for his partner to stop. "I think I get it now."

"I kept you from their private tea time on purpose."

G's jaw dropped.

"Sorry, partner, orders from Hetty."

"Damn, you guys are good, keeping me from one of the most memorable occasions of my life."

"However, son, I have decided to work along side Ms. Lange as a consultant on foreign affairs in southeastern Europe."

"Here at NCIS Headquarters in Los Angeles?"

"And in Romania, the Ukraine, and other countries in southeastern Europe," George said.

G breathed out a long sigh of relief. "When do you start?"

"I already did," the elder Callen said, "I acquired the videos from Romania which you just viewed."

"How come I'm the last one to know about this?"

"Maybe because you're trigger happy," Sam said, chuckling.

"You've had it, Sam," G said, "the first time I find a fountain on our next ops expect to get drowned in it."

"Why wait when you can do the honors in one of my three new fountains."

G punched him in the arm.

"You forgot one thing though."

"What's that?"

"I get to be the first one to dunk your head."

"Sam, about those fountains…"

* * *

**The End.**

**Thanks for reading my story. **


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